


Catch Me

by FairyFoolish



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Angel Dean Winchester, Angel Wings, Angelic Grace, Destiel - Freeform, Developing Relationship, Fix-It, Human Castiel, M/M, Slow Burn, Winged Dean, Winged Dean Winchester, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-01-15 07:20:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 37
Words: 80,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1296325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyFoolish/pseuds/FairyFoolish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the fall, everything changes. Cas is human, Sam's in a coma, and Dean's shoulders won't stop aching no matter how much he ignores them. Though they both agree that fixing the world is their responsibility, Dean and Cas must first learn how to fix themselves. Forced to relearn how to function on a daily basis, the two discover that they need each other more than either of them are comfortable admitting. But they find that when you fall, it's nice to know you have someone there to catch you.</p><p>  <em>“It’s being in love. When two people fill up all the broken cracks inside each other."</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: How we got here.

**Author's Note:**

> A reimagining of season nine. This story starts after the season eight finale.
> 
> FanArt:  
> [Wings](http://28sanyok09.tumblr.com/post/81779966594/catch-me) and [Catch me chapter 20](http://28sanyok09.tumblr.com/post/81981752336/catch-me-for-chapter-20) by [28sanyok09.tumblr.com](http://28sanyok09.tumblr.com/)  
> [Catch Me](http://fairyfoolishness.tumblr.com/post/84730824265) by [midget-banana.tumblr.com](http://midget-banana.tumblr.com/)  
> [Angel!Dean and Human!Castiel](http://rerak-sketchbook.tumblr.com/post/87322997021/human-castiel-and-angel-dean-inspired-by-this) by [rerak-sketchbook.tumblr.com](http://rerak-sketchbook.tumblr.com/)  
> 
> 
> [[ the scene that gives this fic an E rating, is at the end of chapter 33 after the *** mark ]]

Dean had been driving through the night. Well actually he’d been driving through a couple of days. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel staring out into the darkness in front of him, the headlights from the Impala were the only source of light in the deserted wasteland of the Midwest that he was venturing through.

_I **need** to find him._

It had been almost four days now since everything had fallen to shit. Four days since he had to re-contextualize everything they’d been fighting for. Dean was very good at getting things done, when he was allowed his single mindedness. The trials had allowed him to focus on that end goal sufficiently enough that when he had to make that final decision to save Sam, or the world, it was actually a harder decision than he wanted to admit.

He swallowed and turned on the radio to try and drown out the thoughts sifting through his head, so he could focus on the road.

_Where the fuck is he?_

Sam had been in the hospital since the event. Some finagling with paperwork and he was admitted just fine. Checking out might be more difficult, but they could just leave if he got better without telling anyone, and it should be fine.

“ _When_ , he get’s better.” He corrected himself. His grip on the steering wheel was turning his knuckles white.

_If I could only find-_

He stopped, abruptly after catching the cross streets on the road in front of him. He mouthed them to himself as he double-checked what they were and got out of the car, lights still on.

“Cas!?” He called, cupping his hands around his mouth, to shout into the darkness. “Cas, where’re you at?” Silence. He swore under his breath and walked a bit away from the car, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, until he saw something move. He was quick to the gun at his side, pointing it at the figure, which was pushed against a payphone. Dean’s shoulder blades itched slightly as goose bumps ran up his neck.

“Cas?” He asked cautiously.

“Hello, Dean…” His voice was coarser than he remembered. More tired. More broken.

Dean shoved the gun back into his holster and ran over, dropping to the ground in front of his friend. “I’ve been searching for you for days man. Why haven’t you answered any of my calls?” His hands went to Cas’s face seeing the bruising and cuts that littered his skin. It was just then that he noticed the other was clutching his side protectively. “What happened to you?”

“I fell, Dean.” Cas replied, sounding annoyed at the ridiculousness of the question. “Just like all the rest of them.”

Dean seemed to switch from confused, to worried and protective instantly. “Why didn’t you call?” He glanced at the payphone they were next to. It almost seemed ironically placed. “I could have been here sooner. I could have help-“

“I don’t need help.”

“What do you mean you don’t need help? You look terrible.”

“I’m fine, Dean.”

“No. You’re not. And what’s wrong with your side? You can’t heal yourself?”

“...No.” He said sounding embarrassed. “Metatron….” Even just speaking the name made the shame rush through him again, and he found he couldn’t look at Dean anymore. “He… He stole my grace.”

“...Oh, Cas. I-“

“He used it in a spell to cast all the angels out of heaven. And that included me. Now graceless and without wings I’m just….”

“Human.” Dean finished the sentence for him, as Cas trailed off.

“I was going to say useless.”

“Come on.” Dean said, taking the arm that wasn't clutched at Cas’s side, and lifting him to standing. “Let’s get you to a hospital. You think you can last a few hours?” That was about how far they were from the hospital that Sam was staying in.

“Just leave me, Dean.” Cas made a poor attempt at slipping out of Dean’s grip, but he just tightened his hold, which caused his shoulder blades to itch a bit more with the strain on them.

“No way. You’re Sammy’s last chance. We gotta get you back in tip-top shape, and get your angel juice back.”

“It’s not that easy Dean.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

Cas's face screwed up as he looked at Dean, half in pain from his side, half in confusion at his words. “And what do you mean I’m Sam’s last chance? What happened to him?”

“I’ll explain on the way.”

“No.” He said quickly, looking down, and sighed. Dean stopped to look at him. “I just… I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to come back with you.”

“Well I don’t care. And you’re the one that looks like you have a broken rib, so let me help _you_ for a change huh?”

Castiel swallowed and looked up at Dean with a kind of defiant resolve. “Alright.”

“Thank you.”


	2. Taking things literally.

Dean had never liked hospitals. They always reeked of death and disease and at least twice a day he overheard the phrase ‘we’ve done all we can’, which made him so frustrated that he’d clench his fists tight enough, to leave nail marks on his palm.

Checking Castiel in had proven more difficult than he had thought, but a few last resort calls to Garth and they had successfully stolen someone’s identity long enough to use their health insurance. Garth had suggested they go to Canada next time because their health care was so much better and it really wasn't that far from them. Dean had hung up on him then.

Once in his room, after the dozens of check-ups and tests and bandages, Cas went to sleep almost instantly. He fell asleep in such an unrealistic amount of time that Dean wondered if he’d slept at all since the fall; and noticing the slightly more noticeable bone structure of his friends face, questioned whether he had eaten yet either.

That night Dean had slept in a chair in Sam’s room, as he had been doing, though he kept waking himself up by scratching at the itch on his back that was starting to turn into a dull burning. It was probably the shirt he was wearing. He needed to wash his clothes. They hadn’t stopped by a laundromat in a while, and Dean hadn’t changed or showered since Sam had been admitted.

Once the sun started peaking through the blinds of the room, Dean decided he could stop pretending he was going to get any sleep, and pushed himself out of the chair at Sam’s bedside. He glanced at his brother, his chest tight, and left to go check on Castiel.

When he got to the doorframe of his room, the ex-angel was still sleeping, so he slipped into the room quietly and went to stare out the window at the parking lot below them, listening to the beeping of his friend’s heart. He’d always assumed Cas was untouchable. Even with the angel blades out there, he always seemed to come out on top. The man could take care of himself. But here he was, more broken than Dean had ever seen him.

Curiosity got the better of him, and Dean went to the foot of his bed, and picked up his chart to look at it. He’d nearly finished scanning it when the rough voice penetrated his thoughts.

“Were you watching me sleep?”

Dean looked up, a bit startled. “No, I was reading your chart.” Though the phrase stuck with him, like a vague déjà vu. “Says you can go home at the end of the day.” He looked back down at the clipboard then set it in its holder. “So long as you change your bandaging regularly. Ribs take a while to heal. Could be a couple weeks.”

“Home…” Cas said softly to himself. And judging by the forlorn look in his eyes, Dean knew what he was thinking of.

“The bunker.” He said quickly before Cas lost himself any further in his own self-pity. “It’s not far from here. I can drive you there and get you all set up. We’ve got loads of room.”

“Thanks.” The normal brightness in Cas’s voice was gone, and Dean found himself grasping at straws to try and keep from letting the awkward sadness fill the space between them.

“I didn’t realize when angels fell they like… _actually,_ literally, fell.”

“What did you think?”

“Well I don’t know. I also thought purgatory was going to be some white empty space, and it wasn't.”

“So you were wrong about that as well?”

“Well… yeah.”

“Why are you telling me your misconceptions?”

“To make conversation, Cas.”

“Why?”

“Because you look like a kicked puppy.” Cas looked down at himself, but before he could say something Dean interjected. “Not physically. It’s…” He sighed. He’d forgotten how literally Cas could take things. “It’s just a saying. You look really down, is all I meant.”

“How am I supposed to look, Dean?”

“I don’t know!” He closed his mouth quickly, realizing that he was almost shouting. “I don’t know.” He said again quieter. “I just wish you didn’t look so hurt.”

“But I am hurt.”

“Never mind.” He said giving up, for the moment.

They sat in silence for a long stretch of time, before Castiel broke it.

“How’s Sam?”

“...Not good.”

“I’m sorry Dean.”

“No.” He said looking up at him. “Don’t say it like that. Like it’s a lost cause.”

“Well-“

“No!” He snapped. And Cas closed his mouth.

Dean’s jaw was set tightly and he reached his hand around his shoulder to scratch at his back, as he thought. He’d been doing that a lot. Cas furrowed his brow, and opened his mouth to ask about it, but couldn’t get a word out, before Dean spoke again.

“Do you have any angel buddies that we could get to heal him?”

Castiel shook his head. “And even if I did. I lost communication with them. The ‘angel radio’, as you call it, left with my grace.”

“We’ll get it back, Cas.”

“Are you saying that for me, or for Sam?”

Dean looked at him, seeming hurt by the question, but didn’t answer. Which for Cas, was answer enough.

“How did you find me?”

“I overheard someone in the hospital parking lot talking about a ‘pretty boy’ at a truck stop.”

“And you knew it was me?”

“They said he put two fingers to his forehead, and when nothing happened, grabbed his head. Then ran off.”

Castiel blushed.

Dean smiled. “When you tried to knock someone out, and it didn’t work, you tried to _smite_ them?”

“Probably not the best sequence of trial and error, now that I think back on it.”

Dean laughed gently.

Cas smiled at the sound.

“After that it was just following the trail you left.”

“You expended a great deal of energy to find me, to save your brother, and I can’t even help.”

“You can help me when you get out of here. Just focus on getting better okay?”

“And if I can’t help you?”

Dean shrugged. “Then Kevin and Crowley will have a new roommate, while I try to find some way to bring Sam back.”

“Crowley?” Cas asked, his face hard and confused.

“Yeah, turns out the bunker has a demon prison in it. Pretty handy huh?”

“You left Kevin alone with Crowley?”

“Well it’s not like they’re eating dinner together. Kevin’s translating and Crowley’s chained up in the basement.”

Cas looked unconvinced. Dean ran through what he’d just said in his head again.

“On second thought I think I should go check on them.”

“That would probably be wise.”

“I’ll be back to pick you up tonight. Get better, okay?”

“I’m doing my best Dean. I’m not actively trying to get worse.”

“They were words of encouragement, Cas.” He said almost laughing, at how ridiculous it was, Cas taking it so bluntly.

“Oh… Well… Thank you…”

“You’re welcome. See you in a few. Get some shuteye. And eat something.”


	3. And everything keeps piling up.

Much later in the night than he would have liked, Dean re-entered the hospital, running his hands over his face, as he made his way up to Cas’s room. Too many things were going wrong too quickly. It was like a domino effect of bad shit that just had to all happen at once. While trying to deal with yet another thing today, he hadn’t had time to take that shower he so desperately needed, or see if he could find the laundry room, that he was sure existed in the bunker somewhere. He was so stressed that he had almost scratched the top of his shoulder blades raw. Which was a habit that he didn’t even remember acquiring, but now his upper back was actively aching with a kind of burning sensation at all times, and Dean was sure it was because of this new habit he’d picked up.

As soon as he appeared in the doorway his tired eyes fell on a fully dressed Cas, sitting on the hospital bed, whose face instantly fell. “What happened?”

Dean sighed, in that long drawn out way, that Cas knew meant that:

A)   He blamed himself for whatever had happened.

B)   He’d spent a fair amount of time arguing and/or yelling.

C)   He hadn’t found a solution yet.

“Kevin let Crowley go.”

“What?” Dean had scarcely heard Cas sound so serious before. And for a brief moment, Dean wondered if Cas was scared of Crowley. Maybe without his grace, Cas would be wary of a lot more things that he used to brush off so easily. But a part of Dean thought that, what seemed more realistic was that Cas hadn’t yet realized the extent to which he wasn’t angelic. He felt his point was being proven in front of him, as he saw Cas’s eyes focus a bit too hard on something just above Dean’s shoulder, and he knew that the other was trying to use his celestial ‘being everywhere at once’ trick to see if he could find Crowley, but then realized that he couldn’t. The defeated look on Cas’s face lasted only a second, but it was enough to make Dean realize he had more problems than he had first thought. He wasn’t just going to have to teach Cas how to be human. He was going to have to help make him realize that being human was an okay thing to be.

“He said something about his mom and… I don’t know…” Dean rubbed his shoulder. The aching in his bones was starting to make him wonder if it wasn’t his scratching that was causing it, so much as all his driving everywhere. Maybe he needed a chiropractor.

“We have to find him, Dean.”

“I know.” He said sounding offended that Cas would feel the need to even say that. Of course they had to find him. What a stupidly, obvious statement.

Dean looked at Cas then. Really looked at him for the first time since he’d found him and a small smile tried to infiltrate it’s way through all that stress and worry etched into his expression. He’d missed his friend.

“What?” Cas asked looking nervous. Why was Dean staring?

“Nothing. I just… Missed you. That’s all.”

“You were only gone a few hours."

“I meant in general. Since I saw you before all this bullshit.”

“Oh.” Cas tried to process the statement but he couldn’t figure out how to categorize it.

While Cas’s face contorted in that kind of adorable way it did when he was trying to understand something that he wasn’t going to grasp anytime quickly, Dean decided to change the subject. “You feeling better though? Ate something?”

“Oh… Yes.” Castiel nodded. “I did. Although I want to run something by you.”

The phrase ‘run something by you’ made Dean grin. It was clearly something Cas had picked up from watching too much TV. “Yeah buddy?”

“Being a medical professional specializing in care of humans, I asked the doctor about food intake.”

Dean nodded along, trying extremely hard not to smile or laugh, to make Cas feel like he was doing something wrong. Cas had a way of interpreting how people reacted to his childlike ignorance, as people thinking he wasn’t intelligent. And the last thing Dean wanted to do right now was to make Cas feel worse about himself than he already did.

“And he said the average human eats every three to five hours.”

Dean did the math in his head and made that agreeing ‘frown’ that seemed to be a Winchester trait. That seemed about right.

“Does that seem normal to you? That’s more than three meals. That’s a lot of focus on eating, for a twenty-four hour time period.”

Dean shrugged. “Well yeah. I mean you eat three meals, sure. But you get hungry in-between. You snack. You drink. Humans are basically eating, sleeping, fucking machines. You wake up each morning and try to find something worth doing, to wake up the next day and do it all again. Most of us don’t have some grander celestial plan, hanging over us. We gotta make our own plan. We need constant fuel for that.”

Cas nodded slowly, his eyes somewhere else as he thought.

“Cas, have you ever thought of what it was like to be human? I mean, before all of this.”

He shook his head. “It was always such an enigma. There are so many things that never made any sense.”

“Like?”

“Finding a reason to keep going, rather than being given one.”

There was something more sinister behind Cas’s eyes. Something that was tapping at the inside of his soul. Something that was whispering foul things in his ear when no one was around. And Dean could recognize that look of existential crisis better than anyone.

“Well that’s why there’s alcohol. Helps keep the destructive thoughts at bay until you find the reasons.”

Cas looked up at him. “You must have a lot of destructive thoughts to silence.”

The comment caught Dean off guard and he dropped his eye contact with the other. “Yeah well, we should really get back to the bunker. I don’t want to leave the kid alone for too long, considering.” And he tilted his head towards the exit, as he went into the hallway. Just then a shot of pain went through Dean’s shoulder blades. It seemed to go through his spine with electric force. He put a hand on the wall and winced, but it passed as quickly as it came, and he had shaken if off within the few seconds it took for Cas to cross from his bed to the door, and turn into the hallway. He didn’t notice a thing.

“Where’s your trench coat?” Dean asked as they walked down the hall. He’d been meaning to ask since he found him, but the time never felt right.

Cas shrugged. “It was covered in blood. People were staring.”

“We can get you a new one. I’m sure the bunker has something similar somewhere. There’s got to be a secret closet full of disguises or something. You look better in coat than this stupid sweatshirt anyway. ” Dean said nudging him gently with a grin.

Cas smiled. “Okay. I think I’d like that.”


	4. The eruption of what shouldn't exist.

Dean sat in the main room of the bunker, with his elbows on the table, and his palms pressed to his eyes. He’d been like that for well over an hour now.

Once he and Cas had arrived at the bunker, it had been a non-stop whirlwind of yelling and frustrated groans. He’d even thrown a book at one point. Why did it feel like he was raising a teenage son? He’d already tried that with Lisa’s boy and he wasn’t very good at it then either. The thought of Lisa hit him like a train. He hadn’t spared her a thought in ages. He was both mad at himself for allowing that sadness to return and guilty for not wanting it to. Didn’t she deserve to be thought of? He pressed his palms harder against his eyes, causing them to ache from the pressure.

Kevin had gotten so fed up with Dean not understanding the importance of his deal with Crowley, to get information about his mom that he’d stormed off to his room, locking the door behind him.

Dean had barked at Cas to leave him alone when he tried to comfort him, so he too had left, to the room that Dean had told him he could claim as his own.

So the lone Winchester sat, his head pounding, his heart racing, and his back burning, as he tried to sort through everything that was happening. He had to figure out a way to wake Sam up, and the best way to do that was to find an angel with grace to help them. But what angel would help them now? Gabriel maybe, if he hadn’t disappeared. Maybe if they could find him that could answer their problems. They could heal Sam, find Crowley, and maybe even figure out a way to get Castiel’s grace back.

While in mid-thought another shooting pain went through his back, and Dean let out a sharp “Gah.” Dropping his hands from his face he gripped the edge of the table, waiting for it to pass. It had happened a handful of times since they’d left the hospital, and each time it passed. Though each time the pain had lasted for longer, and when it subsided, the burning ache of his shoulder blades seemed to be more intense. But this time it didn’t stop. He squinted his eyes shut, clenched his teeth together, and tried like hell to breathe through it. But it just kept getting worse. Why wasn’t this one passing like the others? And what the fuck was happening in the first place? For half a second Dean thought it had started to subside, but as soon as he started to relax his shoulders, the surge went through his spine into his shoulder blades once more; this time with such force that when he went to grab for the edge of the table again, he knocked the glass of whiskey he’d poured himself earlier, to the ground, resulting in a dramatic crash.

Hearing the crash, Cas was down the hall quickly, turning the corner to the main room, his protective instinct over coming his hurt at being yelled at for no reason. “Dean?” He looked to the blonde first, noticing how much pain he was in, and then went to the glass shards scattered across the floor. “Dean, what happened?” He asked crossing quickly to his side. He put a hand up, to rest on Dean’s back, but Dean let out a short yell of pain as he instinctively pulled away from the touch. “What’s happening?"

Dean shook his head. “I don’t know.” He forced out. “My back it’s- Ahh!” He was almost screaming from whatever this was.

Castiel glanced to the hallway. Kevin must have had headphones in. Or else he would have came running by now. He turned back to Dean and spoke with calm decisiveness, which was more reminiscent of the Castiel Dean was more accustom to. “Show me.”

With one quick movement, Dean forced himself to cringe through the still mounting pain and grabbed the back of the collar of his shirt, pulling it over his head, dropping it on the table, and allowing himself to white knuckle the edge of it again.

Castiel stood behind Dean, seated at the table, and was so startled by the sight, he had to stop himself from taking a sharp inhale of breath. Dean’s upper back was littered with deep gauges and bruising. It looked like not only had Dean’s constant scratching at the skin left injuries that would scar on their own, but that something had been trying to claw it’s way out. He put a gentle hand against the gnarled skin and let a small, “Oh no.” escape his lips while Dean flinched at the touch.

“No.” Dean said shaking his head, cringing. “You’re not allowed to do that. Don’t stand behind me-Gah… And make vague statements…” He was having trouble focusing on breathing. His head was starting to swim so he closed his eyes again and forced himself to take deep breathes to keep himself level, but the pain just kept getting worse. It felt like his blood was trying to boil out of his skin. Like something with claws was scratching to get out from the inside. Like his skin couldn’t hold himself together any longer.

Castiel had an idea of what was happening. Though he didn’t want to believe it. It was a part of a stupid old story that Gabriel would tell to impress the others; a fairytale that Cas had never put any stock into. So he was still hesitant as to what was happening. But staring at his back, Castiel distinctly saw something move from within Dean, and push against the skin protruding out against the injuries, but not coming through the flesh.

Dean cried out, louder than he had before, as this happened. He felt like his bones were trying to reorganize themselves. As if they were being broken and then reset in the wrong places. “Cas, what the hell is happening!?” He yelled.

Castiel was shaking now with the intensity of the moment; more so from seeing Dean in such pain, than anything else. He calmed himself enough to try and figure out what to do. He saw the Smith and Wesson switchblade, clipped to Dean’s jeans and grabbed it. “Do you trust me?”

“What?”

“Do you trust me?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“By the time I explain, your bone structure will have been disfigured to the point of organ failure. I think I can fix this but I need you to trust me.”

“You ' _think'_!?”

“Do you trust me!?” He asked louder, in that stern voice that Castiel seemed to only reserve for life and death situations.

There was a silence in the room for a moment that hadn’t been there since the glass shattered. It was cut short by another cry from Dean’s lips, and then he forced the word past his teeth. “Yes.”

Cas flipped open the blade, with a kind of ease that reminded Dean, that he was a soldier of heaven, not just the lost puppy that he’d grown accustom to.

Pressing the blade to skin, Cas steadily pulled the sharp edge along the inside of Dean’s shoulder blade, trying to ignore the sound that came from the back of Dean’s throat as he tried to mask how much pain he was in. But after making the cut, Cas looked at the wound and sighed, frustrated, closing the now bloody blade and dropping it on the table. “I need something sharper.”

“That is the sharpest thing I own.” Dean snapped, sounding as if he was offended that Cas didn’t find one of his most prized possessions, satisfactory, for carving him up.

“Stay here.” Cas said, running back off to his room.

Dean almost made a snide remark, to ask where else he would be going, but another sharp pain spread through his shoulders and he cried out, clenching his eyes shut.

When he came running back into the room, Cas had his angel blade in his hand and Dean rolled his eyes. “That’s not any sharper than-“

“This is going hurt.” Cas cut him off.

“I guessed that.”

“No. It will really hurt.”

“I’ve been cut with one of those before Cas.” He was talking through clenched teeth, trying to keep himself from passing out completely, now that the pain was starting to make his mind fuzzy.

“Not like this.” He said softly and held Dean still by his shoulder with one hand, while he pressed the blade into his back, along the inside edge of his shoulder blade, and meticulously pushed the sharp edge along the bone. Cas was holding his breathe, though he didn’t realize it, as he watched Dean’s skin split easily, blood welling around the wound. But what was different this time, is that it glowed. Not the kind of vibrant glow that happened when the blade was used on an angel, but definitely more of a glow than should be happening on any human. He tried to push out the sound of Dean’s voice, crying out, the sound of it echoing through the main room. Cas hadn’t noticed but, his cheeks were wet, tears of frustration and concentration leaving streaks. He’d never cried before. So he was unaware of its happening. He was too focused on the task at hand.

When he’d finished with the right side, he wiped the blade on the edge of his jeans and moved to start at the top of the left shoulder blade.

Dean interrupted, “What did you soak that thing in!?” He hadn’t been in this much pain in a long time. Flashes of hell came back to him, but he shook it off.

“Nothing, it’s… I will explain when we’re done. For now I need you to focus.”

“Cas I don’t think-“ But his words were cut off by his own screaming as he felt the blade rip through his skin, burning much more than a single blade should. He’d never had this problem with an angel blade before. Something was undeniably wrong with him. Focusing on what could possibly be going on, was too much for him right now though. Dean focused on breathing, and in a few instances, forgot he was even screaming. It wasn’t until the blade disconnected with his skin, that he slumped forward lightly, only to be greeted by another bout of searing pain through his back. “That didn’t DO anything!”

“You have to push.”

“What?”

“I can help pull them out through the incision. But I will be fighting with your bone structure. If you can focus on pushing them out, it will be easier on you.”

“Pushing WHAT out?”

Cas’s breath caught in his throat. “It will be better if you don’t know just yet.”

Dean let out a frustrated yell and hit the table. “Fine. Just do it.”

Cas, spread the skin a bit on the right side of Dean’s back, “Focus on the right side first. Flex your shoulder blade.”

He did, and upon seeing a blood soaked, crumpled, bony mass, shift past the wound, Cas slid his fingers inside Dean, and wrapped them around a piece of the mass. With determination that Cas always seemed to store away in mass, the ex-angel pulled slowly, but forcefully, as the mass of tangled bones and blood started to push through the wound.

Whatever Cas had grabbed on to, was something that was connected to Dean. Something sensitive, and something injured, because it sent a chill through his body and forced spots behind his eyes, in a way that seemed reminiscent of both the pain he endured at the hands of Alastair, and the kind of mind blowing sex that he’d had only a few times in his life. He let out a final cry as he focused on one last push, and whatever had been desperately trying to get out of him, erupted from the wound, Cas had made.

Dean made to turn his head to see what it was, but Cas knew better than to let him. He put bloody hand on the back of Dean’s head to stop him. “Focus on the other side.”

“Cas I-“

“Focus, Dean. We need to do this quickly.” They were growing at an alarming rate, and if Cas didn’t know better he’d say this was a curse, more than an unfortunate circumstance. Explaining this to Dean was going to be difficult. He was going to yell. Cas forced himself to stay focused, and stop letting his mind wander. He spread the skin around the wound on Dean’s left side, and as soon as he flexed his shoulder enough, Cas grabbed what of the fleshy mass he could, and again helped it through the opening, to the sound of Dean’s screaming.

Once they had both unfurled and Dean’s voice had stopped echoing against the walls, Cas allowed himself to look at them. The twisted broken mass that was a pair of blood soaked wings. A pair of wings that had no business being there at all. Blood soaked and broken.

They were warped from being cramped and tangled, and Cas could only imagine how much pain Dean must still be in. Cas remembered how much pain he would be in, if just a few feathers were broken or off set. But it looked like the entirety of both wings were disfigured.

Dean had his forehead pressed against the table, exhausted, and still cringing in pain, though significantly less so now. “You gonna tell me what’s going on?” He breathed.

Cas still stared at the wings, almost dumbfounded by the ridiculousness of their existence. “You’re not going to like it.”


	5. In which the events of five years ago, are really important.

“ ‘For in the resurrection they… are as the angels of God in heaven.’ ” The words fell from Cas’s lips in a whisper as a million different stories raced through his head. Things Gabriel had told him, things he’d read, rumors he’d heard, all swirled in his now, only human mind. Why did everything happen to the Winchester’s? Why couldn’t fate and destiny and bad luck just leave them alone for once?

“What did you say?” Dean said sitting up with a wince.

“Nothing I-…” Cas cut himself off, realizing just now that he was standing in a shallow, sticky, puddle, Dean’s blood still dripping from his hands, having stained his clothes and the floor around them. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. We should move to the bathroom to patch you up.”

“Not before you explain this.” Dean, for the first time since they’d started, turned, painfully, to look behind himself, before Cas could stop him and looked up at the feathered mass sticking out of his back on either side. He froze out of disbelief for a moment, before grinding his teeth in pure frustrated, anger. “What the hell is this?” He growled.

“Wings?” Cas offered gently, looking almost afraid of what Dean might do.

“Is this some sort of sick joke?”

“No it’s-“

“What did you do!?”

Cas’s voice snapped back to his serious tone, making direct eye contact with him. “I did not do this Dean! I would never do something this painful to you.” He glanced up at the wings. “Not on purpose at least.”

Dean caught the guilt in his tone. “Cas, what happened? What is this? How does this even happen?” He gestured to the grotesque appendages behind him, but closed his eyes and grabbed the table, when his vision went white for a moment.

“Your wounds need to be tended to. And you need food.”

“No.” He said quickly. “Explain, first.”

Cas sighed. “If I explain first, you might not still be conscious by the time I’ve finished.”

“I don’t care.”

Cas rolled his eyes, though just barely. Not enough that Dean would notice. “Can we at least move to the bathroom? I can clean your wounds while I talk.” He looked up at the wings and touched the end of one gently, watching it recoil as Dean flinched. “And see what I can do about fixing your wings.”

“Don’t-… Don’t say that.”

Cas squinted his eyes confused.

“ ‘ _My_ ’ wings. They’re not MY wings. They’re not… I don’t want them.”

“What should I call them then?”

“I don’t know! For god sake Cas is this really important?”

“You were the one that brought it up.”

Dean groaned and put his head in his hands, suddenly feeling nauseous and dizzy now that the adrenaline and endorphins were starting to wear off. “Can we just get this over with? The quicker you explain this, the quicker we can figure out how to fix it. And the quicker I can get rid of them.”

Cas grimaced. “I’m not sure it’ll be that easy, Dean.”

“Well we won’t know unless you start talking, now will we!?” He snapped, causing Cas to wince, and lean back from him a bit. “Sorry…” He sighed. “Let’s just… Get moving.” He pushed himself up but just as quickly fell back into the chair as his head started to spin.

Castiel was at his side, wrapping an arm around his neck to pull him up, before he could protest. “You seem to be in less pain than you were before, at least.” He offered as they started to walk.

“I guess.”

When they got to the bathroom, Cas carefully set Dean on a stool, near one of the showers and looked at him, the worry clear in his eyes. “You should take a shower to clean the majority of the blood off.”

“Na-uh.” Dean said looking up at him, through tired eyes. “You said you’d give me answers, and I want them now.”

Cas sighed, but gave in. “Do you have any holy water?”

“Yeah. A barrel’s in the storage unit at the end of the hallway. Why?”

“It’ll help. I’ll be right back.”

And he was, but when he came back, a bucket of holy water in one hand, he found Dean, standing, looking at himself in a mirror above one of the sinks. He paused to watch him for a moment.

Dean seemed to be testing out how much control he had over the damn things. But beyond that, his face had slid into an expression of pure hatred, and Cas found it unsettling to look at. He set the bucket down, and Dean turned to face him, moving to sit on the stool again.

Cas washed his hands first, trying to get, as much blood as he could out from under his fingernails, but his skin still seemed to be tinted that grotesque pink. Dean watched him for a moment, but was growing impatient.

“So?”

“So…” Cas said hesitantly.

“Are you going to drop some angel knowledge or what? I need some answers over here.”

Another sigh, as he grabbed a towel and ran it under the hot water. “What I know isn’t going to be fact. It comes from stories, and myth, and legend-“

“Like half my life, now come on.”

He moved behind Dean and started wiping the skin around the base of the wings, cleaning off as much blood as he could, without touching the wounds that the wings protruded out of. “An angel, if it wants to, if it needs to, can separate its grace into pieces. Not so much a set number like a puzzle but fragments like if you pulled cotton apart.” The towel was already completely stained, not a white spot left on it. So Cas dropped it in a basket and grabbed a new one, wetting it again.

“Okay.” Dean’s tone, insisted Cas move on.

“Well…” God, this was more complicated than Cas had previously thought. “You remember what happened to Sam when he was pulled out of hell?”

“That his soul got left there?” He sounded bitter about it.

“No. Well yes.” Cas took a breath to organize his thoughts again and went back to cleaning around the wounds. “When he got his soul back it was…” Cas couldn’t find the right word.

“Damaged.” Dean offered.

“Beyond that.”

“But you fixed it.”

“Over time. But it took time. And the wall that was in place, really was the only reason he lasted as long as he did, before I started healing him on a regular basis.”

“Okay. So what’s that got to do with this?” He winced slightly as Cas got a bit too close to a tender spot.

“Did you ever wonder why all of that happened to Sam, but when I pulled you out of hell your soul was in tact?”

“Well he was in the cage. In the pit. With Lucifer.”

“And you were in Alastair’s personal torture chamber. You believe he really had it worse than you?”

Dean thought for a moment. Not happy with how confused he was. None of this made any sense. “What are you getting at?”

“You’re stronger than your brother. Your soul is at least. And mentally you have enough walls built up that you don’t need one put in for you. You can make them yourself just fine.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

Cas dropped the second towel in the laundry bin and grabbed a third, this time soaking it in the holy water. The fact that it felt just like regular water to him was unnerving. He used to be able to tell the difference from tap water, almost on sight. “What I mean is, you suffered a great deal in hell. Your mental state you could wall up and repress on your own, I could see that. But your soul, though you were strong enough to hold it together through most of your time there, was fragmented.”

“What does that even mean?”

Cas held the damp towel at the base of Dean’s neck, and wrung it out, letting the holy water run down his back, and seep into the wounds.

Dean shuddered. It felt like a kind of numbing painkiller. Like icy hot on a sprained knee or a pulled hamstring. He wanted to ask if holy water did that to all wounds, but he already knew the answer to that. Which made him question this one. But again he could figure that out on his own. Some sort of wing-produced wound surely had something to do with angels. So it seemed to make sense that holy water would be relevant. Though he wasn’t sure exactly how or why. But it didn’t surprise him. Random things like this seemed to surprise him less and less as he went through life. He wondered if at one point nothing would surprise him. Maybe that’s where Bobby had been in his life before he died. At the thought, Dean’s chest tightened, and he focused back in on Cas’s words. He didn’t need to be thinking about dead loved ones right now. Not with Sam still in a coma in that hospital.

“It means that you would have gone insane or died. Or both.” Cas got the towel wet with holy water again, and repeated the process. “It’s hard to explain. A soul is a sort of celestial mass, so it's hard to think of it in pieces. Regardless, I knew that you weren’t going to last if I didn’t fix it first. And since I couldn’t reveal myself to you yet, I couldn’t spend weeks healing your soul. I needed to patch it together quickly, so it would hold.”

“A quick stitch-and-fix on my soul?” Dean sounded unimpressed.

“It’s difficult to explain celestial situations when you have no conceptualization of universal planes of existence, Dean. I am trying my best.”

“Okay okay. Sorry. Go on.” He said with a nod, though there was a hint of a smile.

“So, given the circumstances, I used a piece of my grace to thread your soul in place.”

After he said the words, Dean could feel the weight of them, though he wasn’t quite sure why they were so hard for Cas to say. Was this something that was generally taboo? Was it against the rules? Was it difficult? Why was it such a big deal? It had to be for him to not have offered to do it for Sam when the time came, or for him not to have mentioned it earlier. Which made Dean realize a question. “Why didn’t you tell me you did this?”

“It didn’t seem relevant.”

“ _It didn’t seem relevant?_ There’s a piece of your angel crap inside of me, and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Well I didn’t think it would be a problem until now.”

“Until _now_? Is that what did this?” His voice was rising with frustration.

“Hold on Dean. Just… Just let me finish.”

He shut his mouth, slowly, and reluctantly, but didn’t say anything. So Cas continued.

“It’s something that can cripple an angel’s powers, that they never get back. And your grace is something that’s as close as we’ve-… they’ve got to a soul. So no angel I ever knew had done it before. It’s painful and risky and usually doesn’t work. But I didn’t see another option. And for some reason my grace threaded in almost perfectly with the shattered pieces of your soul, and once they were held tightly enough in place, I could pull you out.”

Again, Cas dumped the towel, but this time he grabbed a cup from beside the sink and dipped it in the holy water. “This is going to…” To what? Hurt? Tingle? There wasn’t really a word for it that Castiel could find in the English language, let alone human comprehension. “Feel strange.” He decided upon, and poured the water over a part of Dean’s right wing. The water rinsed a good amount of the blood from the feathers, and caused them to shudder.

Dean closed his eyes, and felt the wind slide out of him. “Holy fuck.” He whispered. He had never felt something so completely before. Whatever these wings were made of it was the most sensitive combination of nerve endings that Dean could imagine. That paired with the apparently completely relevant magical properties of holy water, swirled his blood into light and his thoughts into rushing water. “What _IS_ that?”

“Holy water on wounded wings. It’s trying to heal them for you. But I can’t let you soak in it, until I clean the feathers and re-set the bones.”

Well that sounded delightfully painful. “Are they always this sensitive?”

“That’s difficult to say. I’ve never encountered wings that were so tied to human reality. They’re usually more celestially based.”

“Yeah I never saw yours.”

Castiel blushed. “I never really liked my wings. And it takes a lot of concentration to make them appear to humans. It didn’t seem worth the effort.”

“Why didn’t you like them?”

“The color…” He said softly, sounding embarrassed.

“What? Why? What color were they?”

“Black.”

“What, like bat wings?”

Cas almost made a gagging noise. “No! Just black feathers…” He shook his head. “Bat wings… Ridiculous…” He muttered to himself, sounding like a disapproving aunt at a family Christmas dinner. He dipped the cup into the bucket again, and repeated the process of rinsing Dean’s feathers.

Dean closed his eyes and tried to focus on not letting his mind drift too far with the new sensation; sensations that he couldn’t even categorize right now. He was feeling things he didn’t even know were physical sensations. As if he was seeing colors he couldn’t conceptualize existed.

 “Keep going. You pulled me from hell…” He made a gesture with his hand to indicate for Cas to continue.

“Right, uh… So then it wasn’t really a problem. Being human, you have no way of activating grace, even if it’s indistinguishable from your soul at this point, so it shouldn’t have been a problem.”

“ _But_...”

“But here’s where it gets into speculation. This is just what I believe happened. I could be wrong. Some research into this would probably bring up better results-“

“Cas! Focus.”

“Right. Sorry.” He took a deep breath. Now finished rinsing one wing of blood, he started on the other. “When Metatron cast all the angels out of heaven, he used a spell, that he tricked me into helping with.” He clenched his jaw for a moment, still upset at himself for being so naïve.

“And?” Dean asked, wanting answers quicker than Cas was providing them.

“And part of that spell was to use my grace.”

“You told me this already.”

“I know, Dean just listen.” He snapped.

Dean closed his mouth quickly. And raised his eyebrows momentarily.  _Jeez okay._

“When all the other angels fell, they still had their grace, but not their wings. They have basically everything an angel has, except they can no longer return to heaven, they don’t have their wings, and they need a vessel.” He stopped and put the cup down looking at the mirror in front of Dean, to make eye contact with him, while he stood behind him. “I need to reset the wing structure now.”

“In a second. Keep talking.” Dean knew it was going to hurt, and it was going to take a lot of concentration on his and Cas’s part. So he wanted to hear the end of this explanation first.

Cas sighed, but he was tired, and he needed a break, and he could tell Dean did too. So he moved to lean on the edge of the sink to face Dean, and continued. “But since I lost my grace, and I fell as well, I’m completely human. With Jimmy not even in here anymore, for all intents and purposes, I’m normal.”

“Loose definition for the term, but alright.” He grinned.

Castiel seemed un-amused, and pressed on. “But my grace was still inside you. A piece of the same grace that was used to purge heaven of all beings that held any sort of grace within them.”

Dean’s eyebrows knitted together as he made sure to follow everything Cas was saying.

“I think that, that piece of grace is reacting somehow, because of what Metatron used the rest of my grace for. I think it’s trying to manifest itself into a full conceptualization of an angel, though I don't know why.”

“What like, a lizard growing back its tail?”

“More like a tail growing back it’s lizard.”

“So what does that mean?”

“I’m not sure. But since your human soul is attached to the grace as it’s trying to manifest, it’s manifesting in _this_ universe of conceptualization. That’s why your wings are physical wings foremost. With practice you might be able to focus them into a celestial plane to hide them.”

“Okay but, it’s YOUR grace. So can’t you just take it back?”

Cas shook his head. “It’s fused to your soul. It’s a part of you now. And only an angel can extract grace from another angel." So that excluded him, now. "And even if one tried, it would probably kill you.”

“So what do we do? What does this mean?”

Cas looked more guilty and sorry than he ever had, to Dean’s memory. “I don’t know.” And the fear of those words were evident in his tone.

Dean clenched his jaw, and took a deep breath. “Well why don’t you do whatever it is you need to do to them, and then I’ll take a shower.”

“I’m going to need to dislocate some of the connecting joints and reset them.”

“Lovely.” He said and slid the stool closer to the sink, to hold on to the edge of it.

Cas paused before he started and ran his fingers through a few of the feathers, moving behind him. “They really are beautiful, Dean. I haven’t seen a crème color this rich in a long time. And your feathers are very unique. They’re very soft and thick...”

“I could literally think of nothing I care less about, right now.”

Cas let out a ‘humph’ and pulled his hand away, focusing on what would be the best spot to start with. “I was just trying to to be nice.”

“Just focus on the task at hand a'ight?”

“Don’t bite your tongue off. I heard that’s a thing humans can do in extremely painful situations.”

“I don’t think anything could be worse than these monsters ripping through my back.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Castiel said cautiously, and gently wrapped his finger around a misshapen piece at the base of his left wing. In one quick motion he forced it loose, and Dean saw stars. “Are you alright?”

“Just do it.” He gasped.

So he did. Feeling the joint structure, Cas popped it back into its socket focusing what human strength he had, and Dean let out a short yell, followed by a bout of heavy breathing.

“Do me a favor?” He said between breaths.

“Yes?”

“Do this as quickly as possible, without asking me if I’m alright. Words are proving to be difficult to find.”

“You’re in that much pain?” He seemed wary.

“Oh, I’m in pain alright. But pain I can deal with. Whatever angel sixth sense bullshit is in the nerves on these things is what’s making me feel like I'm on some celestial acid trip.”

Cas, stared at him confused.

“Just… Do it fast. Okay?”

Cas surveyed his wings. There should only be half a dozen more to do. Beyond that he’d just have to pull out the broken feathers. “Alright.” He found the next spot, and repeated the process. And he found himself hoping that he’d never have to tune out the sound of Dean’s screams ever again. He’d heard more today, by his own hand, than he needed to hear in a lifetime.


	6. A shower, a meal, and a good night's sleep.

By the time Cas had successfully reconstructed Dean’s wings, they were both mentally and physically exhausted. Their heavy breathing filled the bathroom, and for once, both of them just let the silence sit there.

After feeling like he had a handle on his own lungs, something that he never thought he’d have to accomplish, Cas went to the sink and washed his hands again, trying to get more of the blood off them. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and noticed there was blood spattered on his cheeks as well. He was literally wearing Dean’s lifeblood on his skin, and it made him extremely uncomfortable. “You should take a shower.”

Dean nodded, but his eyes were closed. Cas then realized that Dean might not be able to make it through a shower. He almost offered to stay just in case, but closed his mouth, knowing what Dean’s answer would be. He wouldn’t accept help if offered, he only accepted help if he desperately needed it in a time of peril. So instead Cas came up with a different reason to stay. “I’m going to go clean the blood from the other room while you get undressed. I’ll come back and clean the bathroom while you are already in the shower, to give you some privacy.”

“Thanks.” Dean breathed, not thinking anything of it.

Cas put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, and Dean looked up at his friend confused, at the sincerity behind the touch. “I wish I could do more.”

“You’ve done enough.” Dean assured him, no malice in those words.

Cas looked at Dean with a small sad smile, and in that moment leaned forward a bit, but stopped himself. Hugging Dean right now would bring more pain than the comfort would be worth. “Call if you need something.” Though the word ‘call’ had changed meanings for him now. No longer would he hear Dean’s voice sifting through his thoughts while he was miles away. Cas would have to focus now, and listen.

The instant that Cas rounded the corner to go towards the front room of the bunker, he almost ran right into Kevin.

“Has Dean calmed down?

Cas’s eyes widened. “Um. Yes. He just needs some time to cool off.” He could hear the shower running now.

“Okay well I gotta brush my teeth.”

“No.” He put a hand on Kevin’s chest to stop him from passing him.

“No?”

“He just… Really needs his space.” Kevin looked like Cas was speaking another language. “Your teeth will be fine for one night.”

“Cas what’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

Kevin raised an eyebrow.

Cas sighed. “I will tell you tomorrow. Okay?”

The boy looked like he wanted something more concrete than that, but nodded anyway. “Sleep well, Cas.” He turned to go back to his room.

“Thank you.” And then Cas thought of something. “Kevin.”

The boy stopped, and turned back to face him. “Yeah?”

“What have you been doing with your night?”

He shrugged. “Reading. Why?”

Cas’s eyebrows scrunched together for a moment. “And you didn’t hear anything?”

“No. Pretty sure the bedrooms are sound proof both ways. As long as you have the door closed. Why? Were you guys fighting?”

“Yeah.” He lied. When was the last time he had lied? Castiel bit the inside of his cheek.

“Don’t sweat it. He cares about you. He’s just bad at showing it.” He turned to walk down the hall, and with a final wave of his hand, added, “If anyone can get Dean Winchester to break down his walls, it’s you,” before disappearing around the corner.

Cas froze in the hallway, and thought on that. The words stuck with him for an abnormally long time, and by the time he’d cleaned the main room and made his way back to the bathroom, it had festered into his heart permanently.

“Dean?” He asked cautiously.

“Yeah?” Came the tired, gruff voice.

“You okay?”

“I’ll let you know if I’m not.” He obviously didn’t like being checked up on. So Cas shut his mouth and got to work cleaning the blood from the bathroom tile was well. It came off fairly quickly, and he had a sickening feeling that the bathroom was lacquered that way on purpose.

He’d finished well before Dean had, and when he heard the water shut off he grabbed a towel to hand to dean, slipping it through the curtain before he could finish asking for one.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Another silence followed. Though this one seemed more awkward than the last.

“Don’t dry your wings.” He said when the thought came to him.

“Why?”

“They’ll dry on their own, and they’re too sensitive right now to have the harsh cotton rubbed on them. Did you put soap on them?”

“I can barely touch them without blacking out at this point.”

“So… No?”

“No Cas, I did not shampoo the deformities on my back.” He pushed the curtain aside, revealing himself in a towel, wings framing him from behind.

“Can I check on them?” He asked, ignoring the 'deformities' comment. He didn't need to think on how Dean saw him when he was an angel right now. Besides it didn't really matter did it? He wouldn't be an angel again anytime soon. If he ever would be again at all.

Dean sighed and stepped out of the shower turning his back to Cas. The wounds around the bases of the wings had stopped bleeding. It looked like it was going to heal them in place nicely. “Can you flex them for me?”

“I don’t know how to flex them.” He sneered.

“You don’t need to know how, you just do it. You don’t actively know how to flex your fingers, you just think about it, and it happens.”

Dean paused to think on that, and reluctantly did as Cas said, feeling the wings outstretch as far as they could.

Cas let his hands run against the feathers to check for any more injuries that hadn’t been addressed, but it all looked fine. “They’re bigger than I expected.” The men of letter’s bathroom had a wall of showers and a wall of sinks on the opposite side, much like a gym would. Dean’s wings took up almost the entire room.

Dean recoiled them in on himself. “What _did_ you expect?” He asked turning back to face him.

Cas shrugged. “I don’t know.” He said softly.

Dean looked at Cas, really looked at him, for the first time that day it seemed, and realized just how much pain his friend was in as well. “You should take a shower too.” He said wiping off some of his blood from Castiel’s jaw line. “I can help you re-bandage your ribs when you get out.”

Cas shook his head. “You need to eat. And sleep.”

“So do you.” He insisted. “Have you ever showered before?”

“No. But it seems to function just as an over-sized sink.” He said glancing at the controls.

“Alright.” Dean was unsure. But he was willing to let this one slide. “Yell if you need anything.”

“Okay, but please go eat something. You’ve lost a lot of blood-“

“I know Cas, most of it is on you.” He looked him up and down, and suddenly felt extremely guilty. Cas had done everything for him, regarding this. If he hadn’t been here. If he hadn’t found him so quickly, Dean would be dead by now. He sighed. “I’ll leave some extra food in your room for when you get out.”

“Alright.”

Dean, before he thought better of it, put a hand on the side of Cas’s face, and kissed the top of his forehead, added a hesitant “Thank you,” and turned, going to his room to change, then to the kitchen to scrounge up something to eat.

Cas stood in the bathroom, confused and a bit lost. What did that mean? Was that an expression of friendship? Dean had never done it to anyone else. At least not that Cas had witnessed. Maybe to that blonde hunter. What was her name? Jo? He squinted his eyes shut and shook his head, trying to physically shake the thoughts from his mind before he stripped himself of the blood soaked clothes and started fiddling with the shower, teaching himself how to use it.

When he had finished scrubbing Dean’s blood from his skin, Cas found a fabric that was similar, if not identical to the fabric that was wrapped around his torso earlier, in the first aid kit stored under a sink. He wrapped the bandage around his torso, tightly enough that his ribs barely moved when he breathed, and sighed looking at himself in the mirror. He slipped on the boxers he’d been wearing earlier, not having a supply of his own to change into and walked back to his room.

He was startled to find Dean asleep on his bed, on his chest, cheek pressed against one of Cas’s pillows, a lukewarm sandwich on his bedside table. Clearly the other had made food, ate, and then brought him a sandwich, only to fall asleep on his bed. Had Dean been waiting for him? Cas glanced at the clock on the wall. He really hadn’t taken that long. Dean must have just been exhausted. He heard his stomach mewl with hunger, and walked over to the plate, picking up the sandwich and taking a bite. It was glorious. Much better than the hospital food or the food he’d been scavenging since The Fall.

Castiel sat on a chair in the blank room and ate the sandwich, glancing at Dean’s sleeping form every once in a while. He was trying not to stare, but it was odd. Dean was literally the most interesting thing in the room, and Cas found himself mesmorized by the way his wings moved gently as his back rose and fell with his breathing.

When he’d finished eating, Cas put the plate on the side table and walked over to the side of the bed. He didn’t want to wake Dean, but he didn’t want to sleep in a chair. His ribs were already starting to bother him from the excursion of the day. But Dean clearly needed the rest more than him. He sat on the edge of this bed and smiled gently, brushing some hair from his face. “I’m not even an angel anymore, and I still watch over you as you sleep.” He whispered.

He took one more glance at Dean’s wings, resting gently against Dean’s back, as he slept on his stomach, and made a move to stand up, before Dean’s hand grabbed his wrist. He looked down at it, then to Dean’s face. It seemed like he was still asleep, but the grip on his wrist was tighter than if it had been an accident.

“Dean?” He asked softly.

“Mmm.” The other muttered, pulling his arm, in to his side, but still kept his grip, so Castiel was pulled into the bed.

Castiel tried to awkwardly keep his balance but ended up giving in and lying next to Dean on the bed. He was planning on staying there until Dean let go of his wrist, but fell asleep long before that, the two of them less than a foot apart, Dean’s wing resting against Cas, pulling him in to the warmth of their joined body heat.

They both slept dreamlessly that night. The nightmares, neither one would admit to, failing to make an appearance that night.


	7. Kevin ships Destiel.

Cas had actually slept well in the hospital, juiced up with drugs and painkillers, but Dean had not. Which meant that in the morning, Cas was the one to wake first. He yawned, which he had never done before, and curled instinctively into the warm mass next to him. Dean was still sleeping on his chest, both arms under his pillow, propping his head up a bit more. Cas opened his eyes and froze for a moment, before he remembered how he’d gotten here. A part of him was waiting for Dean to wake up and brush him off, make some remark about how girlish it was to fall asleep together so intimately. Cas was only in the pair of boxers he’d found on a clothesline a week ago. Dean was in a pair of sweats, having apparently given up trying to figure out how to get a shirt on.

It was in this moment that Cas found himself wishing that the bunker wasn’t so underground, because he wished he could see the way that the morning sunlight would glint off of his wings. His heart was racing as he looked at the feathers above him, Dean having created a sort of canopy with his wing, resting outstretched, hovering just above Cas’s sleeping form. He reached a tentative hand up to touch the feathers again when he heard a knock.

Kevin stuck his head into the room, and Cas realized he’d never closed the door the night before. He sat up with wide eyes to look at Kevin.

“Hey Cas, do you know where-… Woah…” He stood there staring, and Cas’s cheeks turned red.

“I can explain.” He said putting his hands up.

The sudden noise in the room, caused Dean to groan and try to roll over, but he ended up rolling onto a wing, the jolt of pain from the still healing feathers caused him to sit up with a sharp “Gah!”, and instinctively hold the wing tip he’d bent to his chest, pulling it around himself.

“Am I still asleep?” Kevin asked blankly, his eyes darting from one to the other.

“No. You are very much awake.” Cas said sliding off the bed.

Dean seemed to just notice Kevin for the first time then. “Dude what are you doing in my room? You wanna let a guy get dressed before barging in?”

“This is Cas’s room, Dean.”

“Well it’s the room you’re allowing me to use. I don’t know if I would call it mine.”

Dean stopped moving, and his eyes went from Kevin standing in the doorframe, eyebrow raised, to Cas standing to the side of the bed, clad only in his underwear.He then looked to himself, giant white wings, curled around him, legs tangled in the sheets on Cas’s bed. His ears turned pink. He looked back to Kevin, whose expression seemed to be waiting for an explanation.

“It’s a long story.”

“I’ll bet it is.” He smirked.

“Cas’s leftover grace is fucking with me because of the whole angel’s falling thing. We’re going to fix it. I’m just stuck with these for now.” He sounded bitter. “So you can wipe that smirk off your face.”

Kevin’s grin grew. “That’s not what I’m smirking about.”

Dean furrowed his brow.

Kevin glanced at Cas, still standing in just his boxers.

Dean did the same. It took him a moment to realize what Kevin was implying, but seeing Cas’s arms wrapped around himself, the blush clear on his cheek, Dean’s eyes grew wide. “Oh! No. No no no. That’s not… We didn’t… No.”

“Yeah?” Kevin asked in almost a laugh, sounding unconvinced.

“Nothing happened!”

“Well you did fall asleep in my bed.” Cas offered, causing Kevin to snicker.

“Not helping!”

“What would help?” He asked blankly, still trying to process how to define the word 'nothing', because it clearly didn't mean what he thought it did.

“If you’d put some clothes on for one.”

“I don’t have any left.”

At that, Kevin lost it, laughing as he put a hand on the doorframe, to keep from doubling over.

“We didn’t sleep together!” He yelled at Kevin.

“But we did.” Cas looked confused.

Kevin laughed harder.

“Not like that-!... Kevin would you just get out of here!” He threw a pillow at the kid, hitting him in the shoulder, before the pillow fell to the ground.

Kevin, still laughing, shook his head and turned into the hallway, calling back to them. “Bout time!” Before disappearing.

Dean groaned and ran his hands through his hair. What did he mean 'bout time'? This was the last thing he needed to worry about right now. He had too much on his mind already.

Cas cautiously went over to pick up the pillow, and moved to put it back on the bed, but thought better of it. Instead he held it to his chest, and kept his eyes on Dean, wondering what he’d done wrong, but wanting to give him his space, so he wouldn’t get more upset.

“Why did you insist to Kevin that we didn’t sleep together?” His voice was soft, as if he was trying not to wake a sleeping dragon. He didn’t want to upset Dean more, but was extremely lost. Being human was proving more confusing than he anticipated.

“He meant sex.” He answered, his head still in his hands.

“… Why didn’t he just say that?”

Dean shook his head with a shrug. “I don’t know, Cas. It’s a turn of phrase. When you say you slept with someone it’s a way to say you fucked.”

“Then what do you say when you’ve just literally slept?”

Dean opened his mouth, and closed again, realizing he didn’t have an answer. “I’m not sure. It’s never come up for me before.” And he realized how kind of sad that statement was.

Cas stood in silence, fiddling with the edge of the pillow, feeling like he’d done something wrong, but not knowing what exactly it was. He didn’t like this feeling that was in the room. It was pressing at his chest and he decided to try and dissolve it.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“… I don’t know.”

“Well then don't apologize.”

Cas felt a hot sensation push at the back of his eyes. Why was this happening? Why did he feel so terrible? “You’re upset.” He said looking up at him.

“Yeah I’m upset.” He gestured a thumb behind him. “Have you seen these?”

Cas nodded.

“Let’s just eat something, then we can start to figure out how to get rid of them. We'll cut them off if we have to.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed to stand.

Cas shook his head. “You can’t.”

Dean stopped and looked at him. “What do you mean we can’t?”

“If they’re as attached to the grace as your soul is, then it’ll cause more damage if you destroy them. You could become soulless, or die." Why did it seem like that statement held more weight for him than it did for Dean? "And they might just grow back.”

Dean let out a frustrated sound that seemed to come from the back of his throat, making him sound like a threatened cat. “Fine. We’ll figure it out.” He walked over to Cas and put a hand on his arm. “How’s your side?” He asked, desperate to change the subject for now.

“Sore.” He answered truthfully, looking up at him.

“You should ice it after you get dressed. I’m gonna go take another shower and change.”

“I-…” Suddenly Cas felt embarrassed, though he wasn’t sure exactly why. It wasn’t like this was his fault.

“What is it, Cas?”

He swallowed. “All my clothes have your blood on them.”

“Ah… Right.” He gave a small smile, and padded his shoulder. “Just use mine. They’ll be a bit big, but until we have time to buy some in your size, they’ll have to do. My rooms the first door on the left.” He pointed out the doorway down the hall, and Cas realized that they shared a wall. He wondered if Dean did that on purpose.

“Thank you.”

“No sweat.” He squeezed his shoulder and left to go to the shower, leaving Cas alone in the room.

He stood there, trying to process the morning. His human mind seemed to be latching on to things that he normally wouldn’t have given a second thought. However, what his eyes landed on eventually, were the handful of feathers that were now tucked into the folds of the messed blankets on the bed. He walked over and picked up the three that he saw, one at a time, and ran his index finger and thumb across them. He took a deep breath and then set them on the side table, but decided that was too out in the open, and instead opened up the drawer to lay them carefully inside, sliding it closed to hide them (though he wasn't exactly sure why he felt the need to), before going to find some clothes.


	8. So what do we do now?

“So is it like a tail?”

“What? No!” Dean had spent the last twenty minutes being barraged with questions about his wings while he tried to cook.

“What do they feel like?” Kevin reached a hand up and Dean spun around, smacking his arm out of the way.

“No!”

Kevin made a face. “I’m not a dog.”

“Then don’t touch things that don’t belong to you.”

“You’re awfully protective of something that you claim to not like very much.”

“I just don’t want you to touch them okay?” He was starting to get self-conscious about it. Also he didn’t like how vulnerable and sensitive they were. His memories of Cas threading his fingers through the feathers to check for broken ones, made his heart speed up.

“You can’t blame me for being a little curious.”

“Can you just… leave? Don’t you have some translating to do? How’s that angel tablet coming?”

Kevin grumbled and rolled his eyes. He grabbed a piece of toast from Dean’s plate and went off to the library.

“Hey!” Dean called after him, indignantly. The back of his throat produced a growl of frustration and he put another piece of bread in the toaster, as he finished up the plate of breakfast he'd been working on.

Cas entered, pulling awkwardly at the hem of one of Dean’s black undershirts. He had changed into the most basic clothes he could find, but Dean was right, they were a bit big on him. He was glad he found a belt to hold up the jeans, but he’d have to go without shoes for a bit. Looking at Dean though, he noticed he wasn’t wearing any either, just a pair of jeans to go with his still damp hair.

Dean looked over his shoulder as Cas entered and gave a small smile. “You hungry?” He asked finishing up putting the food on the plates.

“Yes.” He said, just realizing it now. He kept his eyes on Dean’s back, watching the wings holding themselves against Dean, as tight to his body as possible. He cocked his head to the side, watching the light gleam from the feathers, and just barely snapped out of it when Dean turned.

“You wanna grab the coffee?” He nodded to the mugs on the counter. “Meet you in the war room?” He said, breezing past Cas to the other room.

Cas nodded, taking the mugs and followed Dean, sitting at the end of the table, while Dean sat to the side. His eyes scanned over all the countries on the map and a part of him wondered how many he’d been to. He’d never really paid attention to it before.

“You alright buddy?” Dean asked, a piece of toast already in his mouth.

“Hmm?” He turned to him. “Yeah.”

“I was thinking of finding a coat to cover these, and go to the hospital to check on Sammy, want to come?”

“Do you really think that’s wise?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if someone were to notice? Setting aside the fear of humans in the face of these kind of things, if you came across a demon, or another angel, in your state, you wouldn’t last very long.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re not even letting them touch the back of your chair.”

“Yeah, cause it’s weird. I can practically taste whatever they touch.”

“Exactly.”

He sighed, exasperated. “What are you trying to say?”

“They’re sensitive. And fragile. And above all that, injured and broken.” The feathers were so thick now that they covered any evidence of the healing joints and bones in the wings, but Cas knew it would take at least a week before his wings were fully healed.

“I can take care of myself, Cas.”

He may have been human now, and downright near useless, but there was one thing that Cas knew about, and that was being an angel. He leaned toward Dean, extended a hand grabbed onto one of the main bones, wrapping his fingers around it, to thread into the feathers.

Dean gasped and closed his eyes, putting a hand on the table to hold himself steady. His vision went white, as if he got a head rush from standing, but it just got more vibrant instead of fading. His mind spun and his chest felt like it was burning, trying to hold in his heart.

“I’m holding your wing with the strength it would take to turn a door handle. Can you imagine if someone ran into you? If someone knocked you to the ground? Let alone if someone found out about them. If Metatron found out? Do you know how easily he could cripple you?” He let go of the wing, and Dean was slowly pulled back to reality.

“Damn it, Cas.” He said turning to him. “I’m not going to just leave him in the hospital-“

“There’s nothing you can do for him.” Cas was assigned to protect Dean. Normally he would leave him alone unless he was in grave danger, but now that he was human, and Dean was more vulnerable than ever, he felt he had to speak up. “If there is any change in his condition, won’t the hospital let you know?”

“That’s not the point-“

“Won’t they?”

“… Yes, but that doesn’t mean-“

“So we need to focus on _you_ while we have the time. With Crowley loose, Metatron in heaven, and Naomi dead, we may not have much time and this could get much worse.”

“Naomi’s dead?”

“Metatron killed her.”

“Damn.”

“Agreed.”

With the silence between them, Cas took a drink from the coffee and made a face. He would never get used to tasting food, without being able to conceptualize it’s molecular structure. It was like he was seeing something lit brightly, through a white blindfold.

“What do you mean worse?” Dean asked, looking up from his food.

“Hmm?”

“You said ‘this could get worse’. What do you mean?”

Cas swallowed the bite of eggs he’d had, “Well, this is a unique circumstance. As in, completely unique. You are the first human this has ever happened to. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re in the next testament to be honest-“

“Cas. Focus.”

“Right. Well what I mean is I don’t know what else the grace will do to you.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know Dean. This is probably the extent of it.” He motioned to the wings. “Especially since all the other angels lost their wings. It would stand to reason that the inverse would happen to you. We should just be careful.”

“Careful how?”

“Well you should learn to control them as much as you can. I can help with that. So that if we can’t get rid of them you can-“

“I’m getting rid of them.”

“I understand you want to Dean-“

“I AM getting rid of them!”

“I just think we should be ready for the chance that we can’t-“

“I am not going to be STUCK with these DEFORMITIES!”

Cas’s jaw set, and for a reason he couldn’t pin point, the back of his eyes burned again, and his chest felt like it was hardening from the inside out. “Is that what they are to you?”

“Yes!”

“All wings?”

“Yes! It’s like some constant reminder of everything I hate.” He was standing now. “Religion, faith, fate.” He was listing things on his fingers. “God, prayer, this whole war! Angels-!” He turned to face Cas, and seeing how red his eyes were, and how much hatred was in them, stopped himself mid-sentence, but couldn’t figure out what else to say.

“Do you really hate them all that much?”

“What choice do I have? Given everything they’ve done. Everything they HAVEN’T done!?”

“I did _nothing_ but watch over you.” He said sharply standing up to face Dean. “EVERYTHING I did, I did for you. I came when you called. I healed who you begged me to. I dropped everything to do what you thought was right. And look where it got us! Maybe angels aren’t the problem Dean, maybe it’s you!”

“Yeah? And whose fault is it these things are stuck on me in the first place?”

“I’m not talking about your insufferable whining over your personal circumstance, Dean. I’m talking about the state of the world since you and your brother left a trail of disaster and death!”

“You sound a lot like Metatron.”

“I would NEVER cast my brothers and sisters from heaven knowingly. I would NEVER cause them as much pain as abandoning them that way, even if it _was_ for the greater good.”

“Oh like, I did with Sam?”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“It sounded like that’s what you meant.”

“This isn’t about YOU Dean, this is bigger than that.”

“Well how would you know? You’re human now Cas. What gives you the right to speak on the world’s behalf?”

“I’ve got more right than a winged half-ling.”

“ **NEVER CALL ME THAT EVER AGAIN!** ”

Cas opened his mouth, ready to yell right back at Dean, when the other screamed, putting both hands over his ears and dropped to his knees. Cas felt his breath catch in his throat, as his heart skipped a beat. Had the world stopped for a moment? Or was that just his adrenaline slowing things down? Dropping to the ground in front of Dean, he put a hand on his arm. “What is it? Dean what’s going on?”

“Make it stop!” He yelled much louder than he needed to, shaking his head, as if to shake loose whatever was drilling into his mind.

“Make what stop? Dean what’s happening?”

“So many... All at once. They just-Gah!... Keep getting louder.” He was forcing words through his teeth, at this point.

Cas’s eyes grew wide at the realization, and he swallowed, pulling Dean’s hands away from his ears. “Dean? Dean listen to me.”

Dean tried to put his hands back over his ears, but Cas stopped him.

“That’s not going to do anything.” He put a hand on either side of Dean’s face. “Focus on me.”

He did, though his eyes were still closed.

Before he could interject with something else, Cas continued. “Focus on my voice. I’m real. I’m here in front of you okay?”

“I can barely hear you.”

“You need to turn the noise down on your own.”

“How the fuck am I supposed-“

“Picture a dial, or a remote, some human volume control.”

“Cas, I can’t do this-“

Cas tightened his grip, his fingers wrapped around the back of Dean’s neck, his thumbs against Dean’s jaw on either side.

“You have to!” He said a bit louder, to make sure Dean could hear him. He needed something to ground Dean. He needed to give Dean a physical space that he could picture himself in easily that would have a volume control in it. “Picture the Impala!” Why hadn’t he thought of that before? “Picture yourself in the drivers seat, and turn down the volume.”

“Cas, this isn’t-“

“Dean, please, just try!”

Dean swallowed and took a breath to focus. He pictured that old cassette player in the dash of his baby, and squinted his eyes shut tighter, as he pictured the volume controls being pushed down, slowly. It felt like he was pushing a boulder up a hill. He didn't want to keep doing this, but just when he felt like the weight of the voices would over power him, he heard Castiel’s voice.

“I believe in you.”

So he pushed the volume down more, and with one final push, the voices ceased.

“Now do what you need to, to lock the volume in place.”

This felt stupid, but he did it anyway, imagining a piece of duct tape, over the controls, before opening his eyes to see Cas, inches from him.

“Better?”

“Yeah.” He breathed.

They knelt there like that for a moment before Dean spoke up again.

“You can let go now, Cas.”

“Oh!” He said dropping his hands quickly and awkwardly sat on the floor.

“What was that?” Dean asked, sitting next to him, trying to catch his breath.

“I’m not a hundred percent certain. But my guess would be…” He sighed, turning to Dean, “ ‘Angel radio’.”

“I thought you said the wings were all I had to deal with.”

“I said probably.”

Dean closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hands. “Just kill me.”

“I would never do that to you.”

Dean gave a small, sad, half-laugh. “I didn’t mean literally Cas.”

“Oh…” Why did humans say so many things they didn’t mean?

Another silence sat between them, and Cas found that it wasn’t unpleasant. In fact it was kind of comforting. He was sitting side by side with Dean now, their arms touching, both facing the stairs to the entry way of the bunker, listening to Dean’s ragged breathing, and he felt oddly at ease.

“You should know…” How was he going to say this?

“What, Cas?”

He turned to look at him, his eyes screaming apologies. “If you could hear them... They could hear you...”

Dean looked up at him, his eyes serious. “What does that mean?”

“It mean’s that if someone was concentrating on ‘Dean Winchester’, during that episode, they probably found you.”

And for once in their lives, Dean and Cas looked at each other with the exact same expression, while one thought went through their minds.

What angel above all others, would want to find Dean Winchester?


	9. Dean does not like nicknames.

“Michael's still in the pit right?”

Cas shrugged. “I would assume.”

They sat in silence for a bit, as if waiting for something to happen. When nothing did, Dean pushed himself to standing. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling as if the newly acquired frequencies had added weight to his head. “Is it always going to make my head feel this…” He waved his hand around trying to find the right word, and decided on, “thick?”

“You get used to it.” He said getting up as well. “Perceptual blindness.”

“What?” He was too tired for Cas's unnecessary use of large words. The man was a walking thesaurus.

“It’s… Um…” Cas thought on it for a moment. “Like your clothes. You know you’re wearing them but you don’t actively feel them at all times.”

“Ah.” He said nodding and sitting on the edge of the table.

Cas went to sit next to him, both of them lost in thought. He picked up the angel blade that was still on the table from the night before. It shone brightly in the florescent light, as if Dean’s blood never touched it. He spun it in his hand absently, and Dean watched.

“What are we gonna do?” Dean asked.

“What we must.” He said not looking up from the blade.

“Save Sam.”

“Save you.” He turned to face him then.

“I’m not the one dying in a hospital bed right now, Cas.”

“No. You’re dying on your feet in front of me.”

“What are you talking about? I’m fine.”

“You really believe that?”

“So I’ve got some angel voodoo inside me. So what?”

“Dean, there is a very high chance that your vessel won’t be able to handle all that power.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Cas looked down at the blade again, finding eye contact with Dean more difficult than he would like to admit. “If it were a normal angelic possession maybe. But the fact that your body seems to be trying to create an angel on a physical existence, rather than create itself to inhabit a physical being, seems problematic.”

“That doesn't make any sense. And how would you know? I thought you said this hadn’t ever happened before.”

“Dean, I don’t think the grace is trying to just manifest itself.” He accidentally nicked his finger on the edge of the blade, but it didn’t hurt nearly as much as he expected it to. “I think… I think it’s altering your soul with it.”

“Okay…. So what does that mean?” Cas seemed to be making a point that he thought was obvious, but Dean wasn’t grasping, which frustrated him. He hated when he didn’t understand what was happening. It made him feel stupid and useless.

“You can’t be a human with angelic powers, Dean. You can only be human, angel or nephilim.”

“A what?”

“Nephilim. Born of an angel and a human. But that’s irrelevant, they don’t exist. Anymore” He throat tightened at the thought, as Jane’s face flashed through his mind.

“Why are you telling me this?” The exasperation clear in his voice.

“Dean, you’re turning into an angel.” He said louder than he’d planned to, and closed his mouth quickly, afraid of what else he might blurt out.

Dean forced a smile and shook his head. “No I’m not. That’s ridiculous. That can’t happen.” His words sounded forced; his voice unconvinced.

“It hasn’t happened before. That doesn’t mean that it can’t. You of all people should be familiar with the impossible.” He swallowed. Was the room getting hotter? “And speaking as a witness, I’ve seen angels that have a tremendous grasp on their powers, incinerate a vessel on initial contact.”

“Would you just say what you’re trying to say instead of dancing it around it? I’m a big boy Cas, just tell me what it is.”

Why was Dean treating him with such backhanded, undermining statements lately? Did he really find Castiel that annoying? That useless? “If you don’t get a hold of the powers as they come, they’re going to pile up before you can learn to control them, and I can guarantee, that you will explode.”

“...Super.” He said flatly.

Cas looked up at Dean apologetically, and they held eye contact for a moment longer than either of them thought comfortable, but for some reason, neither of them looked away.

“Are you gonna kiss, yet?”

Both Dean and Cas jumped from the table, startled at the sudden third person in the room.

“Crowley, what the hell!?” Dean looked around the room; trying to catalogue where he’d stashed a gun in here, cursing himself for thinking he could walk around in just his jeans, without sticking some weapon in his back pocket at least.

Cas held the angel blade tightely in his fist, keeping his eyes on the demon, and chose to stay silent.

“I like the feathers. It’s a good look on you.”

“What do you want?”

“To finish my deal with Kevin. I’m a man of my word after all.”

“Not a chance.”

“You don’t even know what it is.”

“Fine. What is it?”

Crowley was trying to stifle a chuckle. “I’m sorry… But I can’t take you seriously like that.” He gestured to him, still shirtless, the crème colored wings stretched out on either side of him like an animal trying to make itself look bigger, to scare off prey.

“I don’t have any shirts with _wing holes_.” He sneered.

“What did you do to him?” Crowley snickered, turning to Cas.

“It’s none of your business.” He said in that slow raspy way he tended to, when he was trying to seem more frightening than he actually was.

"Ah, so it was your fault."

"Crowley-"

“Is that what happens when you screw an angel?”

"Why does everyone think that?" Dean asked sounding more lost than anything.

"When you get your conservative father out of your head, and look at your life choices, you'll see what everyone else does. And you do have to admit, you and your guardian angel are rather attached lately."

Cas wanted to comment that he wasn’t an angel anymore, but bit his tongue. 

“Oh?” Crowley raised an eyebrow, just now seeing Cas for what he was. No angelic aura coming from him, while Dean on the other hand, seemed to have a glow that was growing as the seconds ticked by. “What an odd twist. You should call up Warner Brothers, I’m sure they’d love a Freaky Friday sequel.”

“Why are you here!?” Dean snapped.

“Chill out Big Bird. I already told you, I need to give Kevin some information.”

“You don’t get to talk to him.”

“Fine Mama Owl.” Crowley took out a manila envelope and dropped it on the counter. “For his eyes only, if you _don’t_ mind.” He cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrows, to emphasis how serious the statement was.

He looked to Cas, and then back to Dean with one last small chuckle. “This is too adorable.” He took a step back, as if to ready himself to vanish again, but paused, and looked at Dean once more. “I’d maybe put a few angel sigils up in here. Not sure the ‘men of old libraries’ thought that far forward.” He added, purposefully butchering the name.

“Why should we follow your advice?” Dean asked cautiously.

“When I went downstairs to check on how things have been while I was gone, I ran across a little side effect of the great angel catastrophe. Well done by the way.” He added turning to Cas, who ground his teeth together. “So you’re working with Metatron now.”

“I was tricked.”

“Oh… Well that’s not what I heard.”

“What side effect?” Dean cut in.

“Hmm?” Crowley turned back to him.

“You said there was a side effect. What side effect?”

“Oh! Right. Well it seems that the angels didn’t just fall from heaven.” Cas felt his heart speed up, at the implication. Crowley continued. “The two we had locked up seem to have vanished. Meat suits and all.”

Dean’s breathing stopped.

“Purgatory's otherwise untouched though for some reason... Interesting implications...” Crowley shrugged. “Well. See you chaps later. Good luck with…” He put a hand in front of him and gestured at both of them, “All of... this.”

“Wait Crowley don’t-…” But he was gone. “...DAMN IT!” Dean slammed his fist against the table.

Cas swallowed again and looked around the room, looking to see if there was any place that someone could get in other than the door. Crowley already knew where this was, so that was probably how he teleported in, but Cas was under the impression that since it was a bunker it was supposed to be safe. Though with both Lucifer and Michael on the loose, he wasn’t so sure how safe he felt. Especially without his grace.

“Dean?”

He looked up. “Yeah, Cas?” He sounded tired and frustrated and just, so done with the world.

“I’m sorry.”

Dean’s eyebrows knitted together. “For Crowley?”

“For everything.” He said sounding disappointed in himself more than anything.

“Cas, this isn’t-“

“Do you want to start researching?” He said, cutting Dean off, not wanting to have this conversation anymore, though he’d almost started it. “Or working on your powers?”

Dean’s shoulders rose and fell as he thought about their options. “I think we should give this to the kid.” He said picking it up. “Then, I think I’d like if you went to check on Sam. Since I can’t.”

Cas nodded and turned back to the half eaten food, wondering what to do with it, when Dean grabbed his wrist.

“I’m glad you’re here, Cas.”

He felt a shiver go through his spine and he wasn’t sure how to categorize it. He couldn’t attach it to an emotion at that moment.

“We’ll fix this. Won’t we?” Dean tried to think if he'd ever asked that question before. He always seemed so sure in the past. Either it was fixable or it wasn't. Now though... Everything seemed to be in a grey area that made him uncomfortable. 

Cas processed the words before answering. “If there’s a way, we will find it.”

Dean’s hand slid down to Cas’s hand and squeezed it momentarily before dropping it. “Thanks.” He said, before heading to the library, nodding for Cas to follow, so they could watch Kevin open the stupid envelope, and help if something exploded from it.


	10. Everyone always leaves.

The envelope hit the library table with a small slap, and Kevin pulled his headphones out, to look up at the pair. He was going to ask what it was, but Dean’s wings caught his eye before he could, and he stifled his laugh.

Dean pursed his lips. This was going to be a long week. He could already tell.

“Crowley dropped by.”

Kevin’s eyes went wide, and he picked up the envelope. “What is it?”

“Does it look like I opened it?”

“Jeez, you don’t have to be so aggressive all the time, ya know.” He slid it open and pulled out a letter first. His eyes scanned back and forth, his body language slowly shifting to show an anxious stress in his shoulders.

“Well?”

Kevin glanced up and his eyes fell on Cas this time. He looked pained, like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t. “I need to go.”

“What? No.”

“Dean you can’t stop me.”

“Like hell I can. You got an angel tablet to decode.”

“Translate.” Castiel corrected.

“What?”

“It’s not a code, it’s more like a different language.”

“Thank you.” He said, the sarcasm making it obvious that Dean did not appreciate being corrected all the time. He turned back to Kevin. “What did Crowley say?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Dean sighed and made a move to grab the paper but Kevin crumpled it in his hand, holding it out of the way.

“No Dean, this doesn’t concern you.”

“Crowley’s trying to trick you, Kevin. I thought you were smarter than that.”

“It isn’t about Crowley, Dean. It’s about my mom.”

“He’s making it up. You really believe he’d keep her alive this long? What use would she be to him?” The look in Kevin’s eyes made Dean realize he’d stepped too far. He reeled in his anger. “I’m sorry. But it’s true.”

Kevin stared at him, and tried to storm off. Dean stepped in the way, grabbing Kevin’s shoulder, to spin him back to face him, but instead somehow spun him half way across the room into a bookshelf. He hit the shelf with a thud, and slid to the floor.

Dean froze.

Cas put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, his arm brushing against the wings, and the Winchester turned to him. The look in his eyes was something Cas hadn’t seen in a long time; quiet, panicked, fear.

What happened in an instant seemed to hold a silence for ages before Dean could push words past his lips.

“Kev… I’m sorry…” He said softly turning back to him, but not being able to move, or go to his side. He was paralyzed with the fear of what he might end up doing to him on accident. Kevin rubbed the back of his head, fuming and stood up, storming out of the room. “Kevin, wait!” But he was gone, and Castiel’s hand was holding Dean’s wrist to keep him from running after him. “Cas, what are you-“

“I think it best if you leave him alone for now.”

“He’s going to pack his bags and leave. I can’t let that happen. He can’t.” Not again. He wasn’t going to let another little brother walk out of his life, only to get killed. Not like this.

But then Kevin walked back into the room. “You know what, ‘ _Dean Winchester_ ’?” He sneered the name. “For once in your life, you don’t get to call the shots.” Dean was startled by his sudden re-entry, and couldn’t find his voice right away. “I’m going to get my mother, and Crowley is going to help me, and you’re the one that get’s to be locked up in this hell hole this time.”

Dean opened his mouth, but Castiel’s hand on his wrist tightened, and he somehow knew that was a sign to just let Kevin talk. And for once, he listened.

“There are things you don’t understand.” Kevin went on. “Because you don’t _have_ anyone left and you're trying to rationalize that. I get that you have this whole ‘family’ thing, but just because Sam’s incapacitated, doesn’t mean you get to replace him with me. I’m not your little brother, Dean. You’re not my family. I have a family, and this is important to me, and I can’t afford to have you get in the way.”

This time Dean didn’t have any words, even if he should have said something. Instead he just stared at Kevin.

“I might have a chance to save my mom. Even if it's just a trap, I need to take that chance. Because I have the choice to. So I’m leaving. And if you handcuff me to a table and I have to figure out how to break out of here, I will.”

The tension in the room seemed to weigh down on all three of their shoulders. The weight of everything Dean would never say. Of all the things he'd never bring himself to admit. If Kevin didn't think they were family, then there was nothing he could do about it.

“… Fine.”

Kevin was a bit startled by how easily Dean backed down. But he barely showed it.

“Go.” He added, but Kevin stayed in the same spot. “LEAVE!” He yelled at him, and Kevin huffed, walking quickly out of the room taking the envelope, with it's contents he never showed them. If there had been a door to the library, it would have been slammed.

Castiel stood there, holding Dean’s wrist gently, but with a firm grip, for a while, listening to Dean breathe. He couldn’t hear that far into the bedroom section of the bunker, but they’d stood there in silence long enough that Kevin had surely left by then.

“You gonna leave too?” Dean finally said.

Cas looked at him, startled by the question. “No. I have no reason to.”

Dean pulled his arm out of Castiel’s grip and ran a hand through his hair. “I need a drink.”

Cas nodded. “I think I could use one as well.”

“You ever had whiskey?”

“When I was still an angel.”

“Can you do me a favor? Can we lay off the angel crap for tonight?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just… Just for tonight. Can we pretend they don’t exist?”

“But they do.”

“Just-!... Just one night, Cas. That’s all I want. No angel’s, no grace, no wings. Just act as if none of it exists, or ever did.”

Cas nodded slowly, though it was clear he didn’t fully understand. But the desperation in Dean’s voice made Cas want to do whatever would make him look less desperate and broken. “Alright.”

“Thanks.” He took a deep breath. “Now whaddya say we go drink away our feelings huh? Seems like the appropriate response to a shitty couple of days.”

Castiel was going to point out that it probably wasn’t the wisest decision, and wondered what Dean’s definition of ‘appropriate’ was, but held his tongue on that subject. He was curious as to what alcohol tasted like as a human. Dean seemed to like it, though it scrunched up his face when he drank it straight. “We’ve never consumed alcohol together.”

“You’re right.”

“It’s a male bonding ritual I’ve never experienced. I've witnessed a fair amount of them though. I'm not sure I fully understand how the presence of alcohol creates the avenue to forge a friendship. Although I would consider us already pretty good friends.”

"Me too."

"So then if we're not drinking to strengthen our bond, what is our objective?"

Dean smiled softly. God, Cas was just like a small child sometimes. He thought everything was black and white. You could take the angel out of the meat suit, but it seems that he'd still hold on to his linear thought process. "Our objective is to numb everything."

"Like morphine?"

"Something like that." He went to the liquor cabinet in the library, and opened it, setting out two glasses, pouring them each some of the amber liquid he was so familiar with, and handed one to Cas. "A toast."

"What could possibly be appropriate to celebrate right now?"

"That we're both alive."

Cas matched Dean's small smile and nodded, as they clinked glasses. He downed it quickly, as he'd seen Dean do in the past, before the other could stop him, and felt a burning down his throat that he'd never experienced before. He coughed as he looked forward once again, his eyes burning with tears, and Dean laughed. He found that he liked the sound more than he'd previously thought, and he decided to make a point of trying to make Dean laugh as much as he could.

Apparently tonight he was in for a long haul. He was human now after all. Might as well act like one. So he set his glass down on the table next to Dean, still coughing, but managed to articulate a word while trying to catch his breath. "Another."


	11. A (kind of) human and an (almost) angel finish a bottle of whiskey.

“And so I spent an entire month on a junior high baseball team. Dad just never told me to quit. I assumed he knew.” Dean laughed. “He was so confused when I brought home that trophy… Melted down to some good metal we could use though.” He gave a halfhearted smile and took another swig from his glass. He'd had probably three quarters of the bottle so far and felt next to nothing, which was frustrating.

The two of them had spent the better part of the last few hours getting drunk and swapping stories in the library. It was one of those moments that made an itch at the back of Dean’s mind remind him that this was too good to be true. The ease of which they spoke to each other made the rest of the world seem to disappear. There were no longer any angels or demons or sudden deaths to worry about. There was just the two of them.

“Gabriel once rendered a man deaf and mute because he said he didn’t believe he was telling the truth.”

“What?” He choked on the liquor, he laughed so hard.

“Back when he actually did his job. Delivering the word of god, as it were. He delivered a message once, I believe it was of an immaculate conception, there were a lot of those back then, and the husband did not want to believe Gabriel was even real. So the man was deaf and mute until he 'believed in the angel Gabriel'.” He made air quotations, still holding his glass, nearly dropping it, some whiskey sloshing out onto his hand.

“How long did that take?”

“I honestly don’t remember. I don’t know if he ever did. That man may have died in denial of Gabriel's existence.” He wiped his hand on his jeans. Well, Dean's jeans technically.

“He does seem like a pretty impossible being.”

“You sound like Father.” Cas said with a grin looking down at his half empty glass.

Dean laughed at the notion. The idea that Cas referred to ‘God’ as ‘Father’ in such laments terms was hilarious for some reason. None the less, Cas joined in and they both laughed together easily, their voices seeming to harmonize in the library in a way that made them both feel at ease.

“You know I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh. Like, a _real_ laugh.”

Cas blushed, though with how pink his cheeks were from the alcohol it was almost hard to tell. “I haven’t had many chances to.”

Dean’s chest suddenly felt heavy. “You say such depressing things some times.” He pushed the side of his friends head playfully, to get him to snap out of it.

“I’m sorry.” Cas sounded slightly confused. He hadn’t meant to say anything sad. It was just the truth.

“So, because I'm curious, are all angel’s virgins? Like is that a rule?” Dean pressed on.

Cas shook his head and took a swig. “Some of them have relations with humans. That’s how nephilim are born.”

“Know anyone that’s done it?”

“No.” He took the bottle to pour himself another glass. “All I know is heresy. I didn’t even think there was validity to it, until I met one.”

“Met one?”

“A nephilim.”

“What were they like?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Ugh. Fine.” Dean, having been sitting on the edge of the table, leaned back to lay on it but only got half way down before his wings got in the way and he sat back up with a wince, remembering they were there. Dean hadn’t even looked at them since they started drinking. He’d completely forgotten he had them.

Cas made a point of not noticing the small struggle. He'd spent the night averting his eyes from, what he thought was probably the most beautiful set of wings he'd ever seen.

Dean appreciated it.

“Who did you used to hang out with? Before you got tangled up in our messes?”

Cas shrugged. “You don’t really ‘hang out’ with other angels.”

“What do you do?”

“Watch over people. Save people.”

“Seems we’ve both been saving people all our lives.” Dean said, finishing off the bottle of whiskey, as Cas downed his glass. “You doin’ okay there bud?”

“I’m very warm on the inside.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, it’ll do that.”

“I am also a bit dizzy. And I keep saying things I mean to only think.”

“That’ll happen.” He said with a smile and a nod, turning to his friend.

Cas looked at him, and tilted his head just barely. “Your eyes are green.”

“Yeah?” Dean replied, with a smile. “And yours are blue.” God he was adorable sometimes.

“My vessel’s are blue. My actual form has many more colors. That includes what would be 'eyes'.”

“Right. But I’ll never see that. So for now, when someone asks what color your eyes are, they’re blue.” He smiled.

“You could probably comprehend a bit of it. Or at least the plane celestial matter exists on. If you concentrate on your soul and the grace, you might be able to tap into it.”

“Yeah, alright.” He said and closed his eyes, though he was completely convinced it wasn’t going to work.

Cas moved to sit on the edge of the table next to him. “It’ll be in your chest. That’s usually where human vessels keep the majority of their soul.”

Dean concentrated but didn’t really feel like anything was happening.

“Picture what it would be like to try and maneuver through a jungle of fluorescent threads, and then there’s this glowing bit in the center.”

He concentrated, but he wasn't sure exactly what he was supposed to be doing. There were a few silent seconds, where he pretended to give it his best shot, but right when he was about to give up, it suddenly clicked. It felt like that moment when a math concept suddenly made sense. Or when you dream in a second language for the first time. Total and complete understanding, in an instant, as a door just  _opens._

Dean’s mouth opened, and his breathing hitched. “Woah.” He honestly didn’t think anything was going to happen, but he could feel himself being pulled into a completely different state of mind, and as he pushed forward, as soon as he could feel himself engulfed in that shining light, his mind felt like a thousand tiny stars coated the inside of his skull.

“Don’t focus too hard, or you’ll lose pieces of your sanity. Human minds aren’t made to perceive that realm for very long. It's not safe for you. Not yet at least...”

“I’m not sure I can hold it much longer anyway.” But god did he want to. He’d never felt something so pure. With every ounce of his being, somehow everything made sense. Everything was colors and lights and thoughts and truths, and all of it made him ache for his brothers and sisters to just _listen_ for once and they’d understand that he just wanted heaven to be what God intended. He just wanted peace and for heaven and earth to be able to exist together without all this war and to prove how great friendships with humans could be because look at how much more meaning his life had now that he found the Winchester's.

And it was right about then that Dean let go, startled by the thoughts that were _so_ not his.

Being pulled back to the real world made him feel thick and stable and linear. Like he was trapped inside a full wet suit that was a few sizes too small. He wanted to comment on it, but instead he turned to Cas, as if trying to figure him out, right there.

“What?” Cas rubbed his cheek, as if something was there.

“I was… I was _you_.”

Cas’s eyes went wide for a moment and then he realized what had happened. “My grace probably holds residue of me within it. I’m not sure to what extent. But for all intents and purposes, our souls technically _are_ linked.”

Dean thought on the idea, looking at the floor under his feet that dangled just barely above it, from the edge of the table. He let out a small breath that sounded like half a laugh.

Cas looked at him curiously.

Dean met his gaze. “We’re _literally_ soul mates.” Voicing it, made the laughter bubble up in side of him. Mostly just based on the ridiculousness of it all. No wonder he had this inherent trust in Cas. No wonder he could read him like a book. No wonder he enjoyed his company so much. He’d had the damn angel inside him the whole time. “No wonder I like you so much.” He managed to get out, in between laughs.

Cas laughed as well, but more so at Dean’s reaction than at the comment itself. He didn’t quite get it. But he enjoyed seeing Dean having so much fun. He felt the liquor had something to do with how easily he could laugh along with him.

When the laughter had ceased, the Winchester looked at the other, and decided to make a risky ask, but he was curious, and the thought was still in his head, whether or not it was really his. “Did you really find ‘meaning’ with me and Sam?”

Cas blushed, and averted his eyes to the floor, though he wasn’t sure exactly why. “Well… More you than Sam I guess. But yes. I feel I was lost in heaven. I find your friendship and company much more fulfilling than anything I can remember doing before.” He pulled his eyes from the floor to look at him. “Although I’m not sure if that’s appropriate, as it seems that you don’t find a similar need fulfilled with my company.”

“What? Cas don’t be stupid." He took a breath. "I'm not great at like... _feelings_ and crap. But shit, you’re my best friend.”

“I am?”

“Of course you are. Who else would be?”

“…I… I don’t know.” He was going to say Sam, but decided against it. The alcohol was starting to sit in his stomach in such a way that if he moved a bit too much the world took a second to catch up. “My vision is impaired.” Was that necessary to say? Was this what it was like to be drunk? Really drunk? Did words just fall from your mouth like water from a glass?

Dean grinned. “You have no tolerance. You had like three glasses. Not even that, cause I finished your second.”

Cas looked up at him. Paused. Stared. And then opened his mouth.“…I like your freckles.” _Water from a glass._

“Alright, I think it’s time for you to go to bed.”

“Are you going to come too?”

“I don’t think so buddy.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s weird.”

“Why?”

“Because-...” Dean sighed, realizing he didn’t have a quick answer. “Because it’s not a thing two grown men do.”

“That’s not true.” His words slurred a bit more than he would have liked.

Dean corrected himself. “It’s not a thing that two grown men do, who aren’t having sex.”

“I’m not asking for sex.”

“Cas, why do you care so much?”

“Because I sleep better when you’re there.” He closed his mouth quickly. Had he really said that? Damn this liquor. “I mean… I did… I slept… Better…”

Dean looked at him confused and skeptical, with a worried tone to his eyes. “Have you not been sleeping well?”

Why had he even brought this up? Cas sighed. “My human psych-...psychic-....psychological patterns are not equipped to handle my angelic memories.”

“What, the hell, is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t like dreaming. The psychological aspect of it causes my heart to startle my brain to wake up.”

"What, like, you wake yourself up?"

"Not on purpose. It's unnecessarily discomforting."

“That sounds like a nightmare, Cas.”

“Well I don’t like it.” He said pushing himself off the table to stand, and having to grab the edge of it as he swayed. Dean put a hand out to steady him, but Cas pushed it away. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m just not use to being human.” In the short time he had been, Cas had woken up screaming every night; except when he was in the hospital sedated, and when he was sleeping next to Dean. He didn’t even know why. There was no explanation for it, so now he just felt stupid bringing it up. “Don’t worry about it.” He added softly.

“Are they really that bad?”

He shrugged. “Well I could see why you would think I was making it up, as the one time we slept together, it didn’t happen.”

“You saw what happened, Cas. Kevin thought too far into it. People talk.”

“There’s no one here _to_ talk Dean.”

He was right. And Dean suddenly felt lonelier in this giant bunker than he ever had since they got there.

“...Okay.”

Cas looked at him, confused as to what he was admitting to.

Dean caught his look and pushed himself off the table to stand as well. “Since no one’s here. As long as this stays between you and me. And we’re ONLY sleeping.” He said raising his eyebrows, with a stern look.

Cas nodded. Did Dean really think he would try something besides that? He wouldn’t even know where to start.

“Okay then. Are you… Can you walk to your room?”

“Yes. Why? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because you look like you're on a boat.”

Cas looked down at himself and tried to hold himself steady, but failed. He let go to try and take a step, but found that the ground seemed to shift beneath him. Dean caught him before he could topple into a chair. “I may need some assistance.”

“Yeah, I got that.” He said, pulling his friend up to standing, holding his shoulders as they walked to the ex-angel's room.

“But I really do like your freckles.”

“Okay, Drunky. Just focus on not walking into a wall, kay?”


	12. Dean hates hospitals.

“You’re gonna need to liven this place up a bit.” Dean said, sitting Cas on the bed as he looked around the blank room.

“You make it sound as if I’m moving in.”

“Aren’t you?”

“I’d like to return to heaven eventually.” He said and laid back on the bed with a thump, staring at the ceiling. “It used to be so… nice.” He murmured.

“I’m sure it’ll be just as nice when you go back.”

“What was your heaven?”

“What?” Dean was caught off guard by the question, and looked down at Cas, lying next to him.

“That time you and Sam were stuck. What was yours?”

He paused and let his eyes wander before answering. “Fourth of July… 1996.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know Cas." He lied. "I don’t want to talk about it.” He didn’t want to think about Sam right now, or how the thought of Sam's heaven still felt like a hurtful dig even now. He made a note to himself that tomorrow he was definitely going to go visit Sam. He needed to. He couldn’t spend anymore time just waiting for him to die or a solution to magically appear. They didn't have that kind of luck on their side.

“You’re warm.” Cas said then and put a hand on Dean’s arm. “Abnormally so.” He seemed worried.

“If you’re afraid of me getting you sick or something, I can sleep in my own bed.”

Cas shook his head. “I think your molecular structure is rearranging.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’ll probably show more signs of angelic... 'side effects'.” Was the phrase he decided on, though it didn't seem completely right. Maybe powers would have been better? But that also seemed odd. They were just  _things._  Things that Cas once thought were so normal. Things he took for granted.

“Like?”

“Not needing sleep. Or food. Heightened strength.” He stopped himself, seeing the look in Dean’s eye as the thought of Kevin flying across the room, resurfaced. “Just the physical stuff. The mental stuff will progress on it’s own terms it seems.”

“I thought we were gonna forget about this stuff for tonight.”

“Right… Sorry…” Cas yawned and curled into Dean’s leg, as he sat on the bed.

He smiled with a small laugh. “You’re like a cat.”

“Hmm.” He mused, feeling himself being pulled into that blackness he hated so much, that was sleep, but being too drunk to care. Besides, Dean was here. If anyone could protect him in the night it would be one of the most infamous hunters in the world. Right?

“Okay, well hold on a sec.” He readjusted Cas to be on the bed correctly, and laid on top of the covers, next to him, on his side, since his wings still wouldn’t allow him to lay on his back. He left a good foot between them but drunken Cas immediately rolled over and nuzzled into Dean’s chest. Dean froze, his wings pulled tightly against his back as he lay on his side. He wasn’t sure what to do with his arm. “Cas… Cas?” But he received no answer and sighed, trying to get comfortable on his side, his wings sticking out behind him and closed his eyes, trying to ignore how uncomfortable the close contact was. Or at least how uncomfortable he was with the fact that he was actually comfortable.

_That didn’t make any sense._

He shook it off and pushed his mind to other things, and barely drifted off. It seemed Castiel was right. His body was already making a point of not needing sleep as much as he wanted it to.

This meant that as the morning rolled around Dean, really and truly had only slept four hours. But with Cas drunkenly curled up against him, he barely felt the need to move. When he did open his eyes, he found that his arm and his wing had both curled around the other, in a way that was much too intimate for him to feel comfortable with, and he recoiled them both as soon as he noticed.

Cas, still asleep, scrunched up his face and pressed against Dean harder, protesting the sudden cold that washed over him with Dean recoiling from being wrapped around him.

Dean sighed and slowly let his wing settle back down around Cas, but still kept his arm to himself.  He probably craved angelic comfort anyway. And Dean still didn’t really feel any attachment to the things. The wing was most likely helping Cas sleep with some sort of psychological angel sub-conscious thing. If it were any other wing, the ex-angel would probably still prefer the feeling of it wrapped around him, reminding him of who he once was. It didn’t have anything to do with Dean. It was about Cas wishing for the past, and needing that familiar comfort.

Or at least, that’s what Dean told himself. The alternative was much too intimate for him to deal with right now.

By the time seven A.M. rolled around Dean couldn’t pretend to be asleep any longer, and pushed himself out of bed very slowly, carefully pulling the covers over Cas so he wouldn’t wake. When he was sure the other was fine he left a note, detailing where he'd gone, and grabbed a large coat to cover his wings. (After much difficulty finding one that fit that was also long enough. Seriously though, how did Cas wear these things everyday? They were so uncomfortable.) He then slid into the drivers seat of the impala to go check on Sam.

“I missed you baby.” He almost cooed, running his fingers along the dash before starting the car.

The drive to the hospital was more than a little uncomfortable. Dean was used to leaning back in his seat; comfortably sinking into the leather. But now he had to lean forward, so he wasn’t pressing his wings against the seat, and found that he was self-conscious of people seeing him driving like some elderly person that couldn't see properly, hunched over the wheel, squinting at street signs.

“I look like schmutz.” He muttered to himself as he parked the car in the hospital lot, and got out. He double-checked that the black long coat, covered every inch of the white feathers, and consciously pulled them as close to himself as possible. It wasn’t unlike clenching your hands into fists, and holding them there.

When he got to Sam’s room he felt worse than he ever had. Looking at his brother in that hospital bed made his jaw tighten on instinct and he curled his fingers into an actual fist at his sides. The beeping of the heart monitor was mocking him now, he was sure of it. He was so pissed that all of this happened. He had chosen to save Sam over shutting the gates of hell for good. He had made that choice. And now it seemed like it didn’t even matter. Now Sam was just as close to death as he ever had been and it didn't make any difference. He looked paler and thinner and weaker than Dean had ever seen his brother, and he had never felt like more of a failure than he did in that moment.

“Now look here.” He said standing next to Sam’s sleeping form. “I promised -I _swore-_  to protect you. So… You gotta… You gotta pull out of this man. I can’t do this without you… And shit, have you missed a lot…” He smiled though his eyes burned with the threat of tears. “Cas is back and… Kevin’s gone… Crowley’s MIA… God, I don’t even know where Abaddon is…” He sighed. “You gotta help me find her man. You were always the good one with the books and internet shit like that. We gotta gank that bitch. And Crowley too, he's messing with Kevin's head and I-... I need your help...” He sat down in the chair next to the bed, putting his elbows on the mattress next to Sam’s arm. He slid his hands over his face, and through his hair. “There’s gotta be something we haven’t thought of.” He said, this time to himself, more than Sam. “We could really use Bobby right about now, huh? The burning in his eyes, pressed harder, but he pretended not to notice the moisture welling there, or the single droplet slide down his cheek. He didn't cry. Crying was weak. He needed to be strong. There were too many people relying on him to be weak right now. To be weak _ever_.

“You're not allowed to ditch me like he did.” How many people had he lost on there account? “Bobby... Jo… Ellen… Ash… Benny… “ It seemed that anytime someone got into their little family they seemed to vanish just as quickly. Suddenly Dean was worried about Kevin and Cas. Both of them just as human and helpless as anyone that had ever had the unfortunate luck to know the Winchester's. Neither of them even knew how to fight properly. “Gabriel would even be a sight for sore eyes at this point huh? You two always seemed to think faster than the rest of us did. Felt like he was almost your Cas.” That felt odd to say. As if Cas was his. What right did Dean have to Cas over anyone else?

Well he _was_ his best friend. Cas and Sam didn’t seem to get each other the way Dean understood them separately. He felt like he was tethering them together. Both of them holding him in place; keeping him sane. He couldn’t lose either of them, he realized. He just wouldn’t make it. There’d be no coming back from that. He’d tried four years ago already. That whole time with Lisa he was a walking zombie. Going through the motions of life because that’s what he knew Sam would have wanted. But he couldn’t imagine doing anything without him now. Sam was always going to be there. Or they would go down together. That’s how it was going to be.

A voice penetrated his thoughts then. “Okay, so I don’t know exactly what’s going on or how you got one, but you’re gonna need to learn how to mute your radio, or stop using proper nouns altogether cause you practically screamed my name just now.”

Dean stood up quickly and turned sharply to face the intruder. He felt his body both tense, and relax, at the same time, if that was even possible.

“ _Gabriel?_ ”


	13. Last resorts.

“Yes. And while I really would love to hear you try and explain what’s going on I’m gonna need to speed things up a bit, because you haven’t got much time.” He took a step towards Dean who looked at him confused and skeptically.

“What do you mean I haven’t got much-“ But then Gabriel’s hand was on the side of his head and all of a sudden the last week was pouring through his consciousness, like a vhs tape that had been rewound all the way back, and then fast forwarded to the present. When Gabriel pulled his hand away, Dean gasped for air and put a hand on the metal bar at the foot of Sam’s bed. “What the hell was _that_?” He seethed, wishing he could yell, but suddenly lacking the energy to.

“New trick I learned. Transcendental memory reading. Don’t worry I put everything back where it goes. Only went back a week, shouldn’t mess you up too much. Maybe just be more on edge. But honestly how different is that from how you usually are?" He smirked. "One time I went through the last year of this one chick.” He went on. “Literally went crazy. Like I had to tie her down just to smite her out of her misery.”

“What the-… You were dead!” He growled, looking up at the angel.

“And you were human.” He nodded towards him. “Seems like a lot of things have changed since we last met.”

“What are you-“

“But right now, we have to focus on a more pressing matter.” He looked at his watch. “I’m gonna say you’ve got about ten minutes to get out of here with Sam.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

Gabriel sighed frustrated and put a hand on Dean’s shoulder and Sam’s leg, and in the next instant they were in the Impala. Dean behind the wheel, Gabriel in the passenger seat, and Sam lying in the back.

“What the _fuck_!?”

“Drive to the bunker. Quickly.”

“No! Not until you give me some fucking answers. And how do you know about the bunker?”

“I know everything you did in the last week, remember?” He rose up his hand, to remind Dean of when it was pressed to the side of his head. “And contrary to what _you_ might believe. Cas is usually right. You have zero hold on your angel radio, and the sooner you get back inside that warded fortress, the better. Sam would have been fine if you hadn’t visited him. And I’d zap us inside your castle, but I can’t see it until I’ve been inside, because of all the warding on it.”

Dean wanted to argue more. He opened his mouth but Gabriel gave him a threatening look and he closed it, his face looking much like a bratty child that lost an argument with their nanny.

He turned the car on and started driving. Glancing at Gabriel every once in a while, as if checking on him would prevent him from doing something inside the car. The angel didn’t seem to notice, and instead seemed bored and fidgety as the almost thirty minutes it took to drive there made him more glad than ever that he could in fact just teleport wherever he wanted to. When he knew where he was going that is.

The Winchester was glad that Gabriel didn’t jabber on the whole time. But he also wished that he could get some answers. But he was right. Dean could already hear the voices mounting in his head again and it was all he could do to focus on keeping that dial turned down, with the duct tape holding it in place. That paired with driving, and the constant discomfort of the wings under his coat, pressed to the back of the seat, made it so that if Gabriel _had_ been talking, Dean probably wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on what he was saying anyway. At least not without the risk of driving into a ditch on accident.

So when they parked in front of the bunker, Dean turned to Gabriel ready to demand an explanation, but he was already teleported himself to the front door. “God damn it.” Dean huffed and got out of the car. He went to the back seat and pulled Sam out, carrying him easily. It reminded him of when he would carry a sleeping, fifteen year old Sammy, back to bed after falling asleep in front of the hotel TV in some crappy chair. It was almost as easy now as it had been then, and a part of him wondered if it was because Sam had lost so much weight while in the coma, or because of the angel strength he had acquired. He didn't dwell on it. 

“So how does this work?” Gabriel asked looking at the door curiously, trying the different handles. Dean came up, and after shifting Sam in his arms, pulled the lever to open it jerking it to the side sharply. “Oh.” Gabriel said, feeling slightly embarrassed for not figuring it out with how simple it was. Dean didn't bother to mention that it sticks, so if you don't know exactly how to pull it, it wouldn't have opened anyway. 

As soon as Dean walked through the door Cas’s voice rang up to him, from his spot standing in the main room at the base of the stairs. “Dean! Where have you been?” He crumpled the note in his hand that Dean had left (Gone out. Be Back Soon.), and met him at the bottom of the stairs as he got there, Sam in his arms, Gabriel following close behind. “What happened?” He asked softly looking from Sam to Gabriel. “ _Gabriel?_ ”

“You two are starting to sound really similar. I can’t decide if it’s cute or nauseating.”

“You _died_.”

“Well you of all people should know how impermanent that can be. Especially hanging out with the Winchester's. How many times have _you_ died Dean?”

But Dean was already walking out of the war room down the hall to put Sam in his room, completely ignoring them. Cas and Gabriel looked at each other and then followed.

“So you slept with him huh?” He asked, as they went down the hall after him.

“Yes, but just literal sleep. Did he tell you that?”

“Not exactly.”

Dean was looking down at Sam, still in a hospital gown when they entered the room, and turned to face the pair. “Okay. I need answers, and a way to wake him up.”

Gabriel and Cas were quiet. The seriousness in Dean’s eyes was a bit startling for both of them it seemed.

“ _Now!_ ”

“If you say names out loud while your angel radio is on it’s basically sending that person an alarm with your location until they come to you.” Gabriel said. "When you said my name in the hospital I honed in on your location, and realized how absolutely fucked you were."

“Dean why did you leave in the first place? I told you it was dangerous.” Cas sounded more betrayed than angry really.

“Because I need my brother Cas. And I don’t care what happened, or what I did. Now I just need to figure out how to fix him!”

“Well…” Cas turned to look at Gabriel and Dean’s eyes lit up.

“Gabriel you have to.” Dean said quickly.

“I don’t have to do shit.”

“Please. You’re my last chance. You gotta.” He took a step towards him and Gabriel took a step back.

“I can wake him up. But I ain’t sticking around for a month to heal him every day. I only came out of hiding cause Abaddon was seconds from ending you in that hospital room, and I need you to stay alive.”

“Abaddon?” Cas asked, his eyes fearful.

“She tracked Sam to the hospital. Doesn’t really matter. Regardless, if anyone’s gonna fix heaven it’s you lot, and I’m staying out of it till you do.”

“You’re not gonna help us?” Dean almost snapped. "You've been alive this _whole time_ and you didn't think to _help_?"

“I don't know if you've noticed, but helping others isn't really my thing. I just want to be able to go back home some day. I don’t care about all this demon-angel-war nonsense.”

“Well you should!” Dean yelled. “This is your war too and if you don’t-“

“Do you want me to wake him up or not?”

Dean fumed for a moment and looked at Sam. “If you do, but you don’t heal him on a regular basis, what will happen?”

“He’ll die.” Cas chimed in. “Painfully.”

“Well great.” Dean threw his hands up, letting them slap back to his legs as he paced the room. He took off the coat, finding it too constricting on his wings that kept trying to unfurl themselves to match his emotional outbursts.

“Whoa…” Gabriel gaped.

“What?” Dean turned to him. “...Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Your wings.”

“Yeah you knew that.” Hadn't he seen Dean's whole week with that creepy memory trick?

“Yeah it’s just… I didn't realize they were the-“ Cas put a hand on Gabriel and looked at him sternly, trying to convey something in just their eye contact, to which Dean furrowed his brow suspiciously.

“What?” Dean asked again.

Gabriel turned back to Dean, “They’re just a lot more gorgeous than you see them in your minds eye. Your memory makes them seem dull and gross. But they’re really not.” Cas let go of Gabriel’s arm, apparently appeased with his answer. But Dean couldn’t help but feel like there was still a hint of something Cas was hiding behind those blue eyes. Something he wasn’t telling him. But why? To protect him? To keep him calm? He didn’t like it. But now wasn’t the time to push it.

“Okay, well can we focus on Sam please?”

“I don’t know what to tell ya kiddo.” Gabriel shrugged. “I’d say do it yourself, but there’s no way you could heal him without making him explode, if you can’t even control your radio yet.”

Dean let out a throaty growl of a sigh. He didn’t like being treated like a kid that didn’t know how to do his homework. It was demeaning. And he was supposed to be the one in charge. The one to fix everything. The protector.

“There has to be something else that can heal a human like this angel juice can.” Though it made him uncomfortable to know that that much power was growing inside him and he didn’t even know how to control it.

“Well,” Cas’s voice sounded deeper than it had in a while. Like he was afraid of letting himself speak in the first place. “Maybe not _any_ human, but there is something that made Sam Winchester stronger.”

Gabriel furrowed his brow and looked to Dean, whose face seemed to drain of color, as he pressed his teeth together in anger. “No.”

“Dean-“

“No!”

“It might be his only chance.”

“What are we talking about here?” Gabriel asked looking from one to the other, obviously missing something.

Cas kept his eyes on Dean who was fuming now. His look was apologetic, but resolved. Still he didn’t break eye contact with Dean. It was true, it probably was Sam’s last chance. And if Dean was willing to risk the world for his brother, he was going to need to take a few more risks along the way as well. "I hate the idea just as much as you do, Dean. Probably more so. But if Sam dies you're going to spiral into a useless depression and we still have a world to fix. You can let him die in peace and deal with it, or you can force this upon him. Those are your two choices. There is no magical third resolution."

Gabriel looked from one to the other again, making a small gesture with his hands that said ‘well?’

Cas finally answered him, still looking at Dean. His words seemed sad. As if just saying it opened up a whole new set of problems that he would really rather not deal with. Though he was sure Dean hated to hear them more than anyone else. “Demon blood.”


	14. Not much of a choice.

“NO!” Dean yelled again, and this time his feathers ruffled with the noise. Gabriel had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing at how cute it was, paired with how serious Dean’s expression came out.

“Dean.” And it was just a plea from Cas’s lips. One that asked him to stop yelling. To take a breath. To stop flying off the handle and to just think. Because as much as everyone else wanted to believe Dean was the stupid Winchester, Cas knew that wasn’t true. Cas had seen how smart Dean was. How he could solve puzzles and see clues others missed. How he read between the lines while everyone else was just focusing on what was right in front of them. And Cas kept his eyes soft as he looked at him. Because as hard as Dean was, he was afraid of breaking him. Afraid of that way he would shut down and give up and put up that wall of his, unnecessarily. Because Sam was in trouble. And Dean had sacrificed the world for him. And Cas wanted nothing more than to see him smile again, because for god sake how long had it been since Dean had actually smiled?

“I can’t.”

“You have to.” He insisted.

“Where are we even going to get demon blood huh?”

Cas looked at Dean confused and then turned his head to the door of Sam’s bedroom, as if looking to the storage room across the bunker, and let his eyes shift back to Dean. Had he forgotten it was there?

“There’s not just an iv bag of it in there.” Dean said, his hands moving with his words, and Cas noticed that while Dean had always been the kind of person to talk with his hands, he was even more so the kind of person to talk with his _wings_. And both he and Gabriel had to bite back the looks that threatened to surface as the Winchesters white feathers twitched and moved, giving away his emotions more so than he probably realized. “And how much of it are we going to need? How long is this going to be a thing? Last time he was on the stuff for weeks and it took nearly that long to get him clean again!” Ruby’s face shifted through his mind and he felt like punching a wall just to get his aggression and hatred out, all in one spot.

His wings shook gently. Like someone who had clenched their fist too tightly. Like all the tension in his body was trying to escape out of him. And Cas could see a disaster on the horizon.

“We will just have to summon a demon that would help us.” He said calmly. He could see Gabriel looking slightly apprehensive with how angry Dean was getting. Even if Cas didn’t have his grace, he could still tell from his brother’s constant sweep of Dean’s figure, his gaze lingering on the wings, that Dean’s energy was starting to heighten. If he didn’t get Dean to control it or calm down, something was going to happen. And there had never been an angel that couldn’t control their powers. Not in the way that Dean just couldn’t fathom them. He hadn’t had them his whole life. So Cas had no idea what would happen. “What about Meg?” Just the name made Cas smile, though he didn’t mean to.

Gabriel caught the small twitch of his lips though. Before he could ask about it, Dean interjected.

“Meg’s dead.” And that’s what caused him to stop pacing, and grab a hold of himself. Because he’d said it so flippantly. So easily. And to him it wouldn’t matter. Meg barely mattered to him. She had tricked Sam once upon a time, they had been friends briefly. Dean only knew her so much as her usefulness against Crowley. But Cas… He looked up at his friend, and saw something shatter inside him.

“Wh-What?” His voice came out as a shaky croak.

Dean’s whole body language changed. He forgot he was angry at the world. Now he was just pissed at himself for letting it slip so unceremoniously like that. “I’m sorry-“

“Did you kill her?”

“No!” The word came quickly. “No…” He said again softer. And suddenly in that moment Cas was so human Dean almost forgot he ever wasn’t.

Gabriel looked between them and felt like he’d walked in on something he wasn’t supposed to witness. But for once he didn’t interject some witty remark, instead he made a point of not moving. He disappeared in the room, almost fading into the wallpaper and just watched, his eyebrows wrinkled with concentration and interest. There was something happening here that he’d never been witness to before. Something that was complicated and big and terrifying. And he’d be damned if he didn’t make a point to absorb as much of it as he could. It could be useful later. And on top of that, he wanted to give his brother the silence he needed in that moment. Gabriel knew, maybe better than anyone, how hard it was to lose people. To watch them twist and burn and disappear from you life. But Gabriel had, had the privilege of choosing to let them fade, it being the less painful option. It appeared though, as if a large portion of Cas’s world was swept out from under him in a single sentence. He wanted to ask who Meg was. What she meant to Cas. Why there was this tension in the room now. But he just watched. And Dean and Cas forgot he was there entirely.

Cas’s jaw bobbed just barely, as if he was trying to catch words in his mouth but couldn’t wrap his tongue around any. They just slipped his mind as they came to fruition. “When?” He repeated.

“The crypts.”

Cas felt his chest hurt painfully, in a way he’d never experienced before. Like someone had put a hand inside him and was pulling on his sternum, trying to wrench it out of his body, but it stayed, unrelenting. That night when he’d done everything wrong. The night he’d almost killed Dean with his bare hands. The night he left them. The night he betrayed Naomi and started this whole war. That was the night that Meg died. Everything that was wrong with the world was because of that night. Because of him. Everything.

“How?”

“Crowley.”

“Why?”

“To buy us some time…” He said softly, realizing how stupid that sounded in retrospect. She sacrificed herself to give them a few measly extra minutes. Was that really fair? And Dean found that upon remembering all the shit she pulled, and all the times she betrayed them, and the fact that she was a _demon_ , didn’t matter. Not nearly as much as the look on Cas’s face mattered now.

And then a familiar voice slipped into the room. Dry and cracked it forced out a few painful words. “She did it for you…” Sam said.

Dean and Cas turned sharply to him lying on the bed, to find Gabriel pulling his hand away from Sam’s forehead shrugging gently. “You guys seemed like you were having a moment. I thought I’d do something productive.”

“Sammy.” Dean’s shoulders relaxed and he was on his knees, next to the bed in an instant, his hands wrapped around one of his brothers. “Thought you’d left me for good.” He smiled painfully.

“Certainly tried.” He said his eyes still closed. “Seems you won’t let me.” He coughed. And Dean smiled at the joke, but no one else did. It wasn’t funny for anyone else in the room. Because it was cripplingly true. Even Gabriel knew that.

“I’m also glad you are not dead, Sam.” Cas said in that slow way that he always seemed to speak when he said something that was so blunt that he didn’t know how else to say it, not being well versed in the nuances of human speech.

“She called you her unicorn.” Sam said and Dean furrowed his brow looking to Cas, who didn’t seem to understand it any better.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked for Cas, seeing as the other seemed to be trapped in his own mind, unable to find the words he needed.

His now, just human brain, tried to reorganize what the term 'unicorn' could have meant. Was that something Meg had mentioned to him before? _No_. Cas thought. He would have remembered that.

It took him a little longer than he would like to get all the words out, but Sam took a breath and answered as if he’d memorized it. “An impossible being. Something that shouldn’t exist. Something that makes you want to change, just because they exist. Something that makes you question… everything.”

Dean let his eyes rise to look at Cas, but didn’t dare turn completely to him. He had never seen him like this before. And for once, Dean empathized so goddamn much with Cas that he was in physical pain just watching his blank face drain of color, his eyes turn red at the corners as they seemed to shine with the threat of tears. “Cas, I can take care of Sam if you’d like to take a walk.”

“Thank you.” He said stiffly and turned, and left.

The silence weighed down the room and Gabriel could barely stand it. Especially not knowing all the details of the situation. “What was that about?”

Dean opened his mouth, but Sam spoke before he could. “She loved him.”

"She was a demon who helped us with a few turns." Dean added.

“A _demon_?" He sounded unconvinced. "Loved,  _my_ brother?”

“In her own twisted way. And I think-…” Sam winced for a moment, putting the hand that wasn’t in Dean’s, to his side, until the pain passed. “I think he did too.”

Gabriel looked like he was going to throw-up.

Dean looked lost. The person that understood feelings the least in the room.

“He’s not going to last very long, Dean.” Gabriel said and put his palm back to Sam’s forehead. Sam arched his head back with a seethe as Gabriel went through trying to stitch him back together again from the inside, and not getting very far. “And I gotta jet.” He pulled his hand away, and Sam fell back into the pillow. Dean looked like he was in as much pain as Sam was.

Gabriel wondered if they realized just how similar they were to Michael and Lucifer. How often he'd seen Michael's face twist in that way as Lucifer was punished by their father. How Michael felt like he needed to protect all of them. How Lucifer knew he was smarter than all of them. Knew he could fix things if everyone would just let him start over.

“It’s okay. We know what to do now…” Now that Sam was right in front of him, breathing and talking, he knew Cas was right. He didn’t have a choice.

“Please tell me you didn’t agree to something stupid.”

Dean shot Gabriel a look as soon as he opened his mouth. To which the angel put both hands up and shook his head in surrender. He turned back to his brother; glad that his eyes were still closed for now, so he couldn’t see the exchange that just happened. “You just need a Dean Winchester Specialty Smoothie.”

Gabriel realized what Dean meant, and looked like he was going to throw-up again.

“A super-pack of vitamins on a daily basis and you’ll be back to normal in no time.” The word normal felt thick and slimy in his mouth. A lie. That’s what it tasted like. Not even a white lie or a backdoor truth. A blatant, bold-faced lie. But it was his only choice. Sam would never agree to drink demon blood again. So Dean would have to make him. Mask the taste as best he could.

Dean looked up at Gabriel, who looked as unsure as he ever had. “I’ll check in again, if I can.” The angel lamented. Though he wished he hadn’t. In order for things to work out on his end, with what he was working on, he needed to sever himself from everything. And seeing the Winchesters and Cas in such pain was exactly what he did not need right now. He was getting pulled back in to their death trap of a life style. But he was feeling just as trapped as the rest of them now, and he found himself also thinking, that he didn't really have much of a choice.

Dean nodded, and he vanished.

Sam took another breath. “You gonna explain to me what happened?” Cas, Gabriel, _and_ Meg? There were too many things happening around him that he didn’t understand, and when he finally got up the strength to actually open his eyes and look at his brother, his face froze into a look of complete and utter loss of comprehension. “What. Are. Those?” He asked slowly, his eyes a mixture of fear and fascination. Dean’s face snapped into one reminiscent of a child caught stealing cookies from the kitchen. He’d completely forgotten about them.

The wings recoiled against Dean's back in response, afraid of Sam's judgmental eyes on them. 

Dean swallowed.


	15. Defining the most terrifying thing Dean can think of.

When he walked into the kitchen an hour later, Dean found Cas standing in front of the fridge with the door open. His hand was on the handle and his eyes were scanning what was inside. But after watching him for a few seconds Dean realized that his vision was out of focus and he was just letting his eyes roam over everything in there, over and over again, not really seeing any of it. Taking a few steps closer to him, he put a hand on the island, which was freezing, and he realized Cas must have been standing there for a long while, letting the cold out.

“…Cas?” He asked cautiously.

He didn’t move.

“Are you hungry?” He asked stepping closer to Cas, to look at him, but he couldn’t see the others face from behind the fridge door. “I can make you something.” He offered, realizing that Cas probably didn't know how to cook.

Cas closed the fridge slowly. “I don’t like being human, Dean.” His voice was fragile. Still that deep, throat-heavy thing that made Dean wonder if he’d drank anti-freeze at some point. But there was something in there that was weaker than normal. The ex-angel kept his head bent slightly down, hand on the fridge door still, and Dean still couldn’t see his face.

“We’ll get your grace back, Cas.” He insisted in the most supportive voice he could muster. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Cas like this before. He was wearing sweats and a t-shirt that fit him loosely, which made him look even smaller than he was. Whereas, Dean wearing only a pair of jeans, with his wings to keep his back warm, seemed to fill the space unintentionally. Once, Dean had always thought that Cas could fill a room just by being there. He always had a presence that seemed to fill ever crevice. Hadn’t he once said his true form was as big as the Chrysler building? But now… Now Dean was uncomfortable with how their roles had reversed. In some ways, more literal than others.

It was then, watching Cas in the silence between them, that he noticed a small drop hit the tile floor beneath the brunettes bowed head.

He was crying.

Dean suddenly changed tactics. He put a hand on Cas’s arm softly. And he realized then that while he was trying to figure out all this angel crap, how to save his brother, how to save the fucking world, that Cas was getting the emotionally crippling feeling of being human all at once. No nurturing, no puberty, no self-discovery on the way to figuring out your place in world or how to deal with emotions or how to define yourself as an individual. Just one big pent-up existential crisis dropped on the shoulders of someone whose heart was too big before he even had one.

“I hate this.” He said and sniffed, to punctuate it.

“Not many people enjoy it.”

“I don’t have any control over it.”

“You get better at it.”

“I just started thinking of her and all that time she spent with me in the ward all those years ago and-…And you guys didn’t-Didn’t even visit me-“ His breathing was starting to hitch as the lump in his throat rose higher. “But she was there. She was _always_ there.”

Dean felt guiltier than he had in a long time.

“And there’s this… This … Knot.” He put a hand up to his chest, still keeping his eyes on the ground, still keeping one hand on the fridge door to hold himself up. “And it feels as if there’s this suction inside of me, now that I know she's gone, trying to swallow me whole from the inside out. Which doesn’t make any sense because I haven’t spoken to her in so long. But just the idea that I never will again-…” He stopped talking, to take a shuddering breath, and Dean’s grip tightened slightly. Just enough to let him know he was still there. He was still listening. And the Dean of eight years ago would have told him to man up, would have walked away by now, would have said some smart comment to try and snap him out of it. But not now. Not with what he’d been through. Not with how fucking important he realized the people in his life were. Not when he knew exactly what Cas was saying, and hearing it come from someone who’d never had to deal with loss in such a human way before, was resonating so heavily with him, that Dean was almost grateful to hear it explained so basically. Because if he was going to be honest, Dean was probably the worst person to explain the human emotions that came with death, to an angel. There was literally, no one he could think of that was less qualified. 

But that innocence? That’s what he loved about Cas. He had the childlike naivety to wonder why the sky was blue, but the knowledge of the universe to explain it simply, once he figured it out.

“I’ve never wept before.” Cas said sounding less ashamed and more confused. “I have watched countless amounts of my brothers and sisters and friends fall. I have killed people with my own hands and I have never felt their death inside of me as I do now.”

“... Did it ever occur to you that maybe you cared more for Meg than the others?”

Cas’s shaky breathing was the only sound that filled the kitchen until he found his words again. “What do you mean?”

“Did you love her?” Why did those words sound like they meant more than they did?

Another shaky breath. “I’m not sure I know what that is.” But that wasn’t exactly what he meant, so he corrected himself. “I’m not sure what human love is.”

Dean loosened his grip on Cas’s arm and moved it, a palm on his far shoulder, the rest of his arm pressed across his back. “It’s…” If this had been anyone else Dean would have given some half assed answer. But this was Cas. And he literally needed to be taught how to be a human. And love was a big part of that, and Cas deserved to know. Deserved a chance at that. Or at least a chance at understanding it. Even Dean knew that. He had experienced it in all its facets even if he’d deny that. “It’s a sort of passionate feeling for another person. Like they fill up a piece inside of you that you didn’t know was missing. You’d do anything for them. You put them before yourself. You want them to be happy and safe.”

“That doesn’t sound right.”

Dean looked at him confused as Cas let go of the fridge and leaned back into Dean’s arm. They both leaned against the island now, Dean’s arm still around him, Cas’s hair still covering his red eyes.

“This is different.” Cas went on. “It’s more than that…”

 _Oh._ Dean thought, and looked at the wall in front of them, letting his eyes wander across the various cabinets. “That’s still love. It’s just…” God why was this so hard? Why wasn’t there a book for this? Or a YouTube tutorial? “It’s being _in_ love.” He decided on. “When two people fill up all the broken cracks inside each other. When you’re in love with someone, you’d rather be with them than anyone else. You want to be your best self -your whole self- with them. It has more of a sense of intimacy with it. They know things about you no one else does. Like family, but a family you choose. A family that you willingly let behind all your walls, and one that you want to share the rest of your life with.” His mind kept wandering back to Lisa. They had tried. And no doubt he _had_ been in love with her. But he wasn’t anymore. He knew that. And he was starting to wonder when he had fallen out of love with her. If it had been after they wiped her memory, or as early as when they moved in together; when he started trying to replace the hole Sammy’s death left inside him. And he started to wonder if replacing someone with someone else was fair. Or if that was love at all.

Dean could tell Cas wasn’t grasping it entirely, so he tried to simplify it. “The main difference is that when you love someone you would do anything for them. But when you’re _in_ love with someone you would do _everything_ for them.” God he needed a beer after this. “And I mean… you usually end up sleeping with someone you’re in love with, but it’s not a requirement. But that’s a-whole-nother can of worms.”

Cas’s eyes were calculating as he looked up and turned to Dean.

Dean turned to him when he noticed the movement, and his face shifted to one of a more heavyhearted expression, seeing the tear tracks down Cas’s cheeks. Though it seemed he’d stopped crying now. That was good at least.

“I think I was." He sounded as if he was figuring out an intense math problem. "In love with Meg…” He clarified. 

Dean nodded. He’d thought as much.

“But… by that definition…” He squinted his eyes turning away, before looking at Dean again.

And though Dean was pretty sure he knew what Cas was going to say, he decided not to let him. “Love is complicated.”

“Like the colloquial difference between sleeping and having intercourse.”

“Um… Yes… Kind of…”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“So that you understand that the reason you’re so broken up over Meg’s death, is because she mattered to you. Deeply. And that’s okay. When you’ve been human for a bit longer you’ll get a hold on these kind of emotional roller coaster moments. It just takes some practice.” He smiled, but then realized what he said when Cas sighed in a sort resigned way. “But hopefully we’ll get you back to your feathered self before that anyway, right?”

“Right.” He said and sniffed again, trying to get rid of the residual sadness, not liking how it felt sitting in his chest.

“Hey why don’t you take a shower and I’ll make you something to eat? Then maybe you can give me some angel lessons if you’re feeling better.” He really needed to get this radio under control if he was ever going to go outside ever again.

“But I don’t need a shower.”

“Sometimes it’s just nice to have one. The warm water is relaxing. It’ll do you some good.”

Cas nodded and made a small move as if to leave but instead hugged Dean (careful to avoid his wings), and after a moment, muffled into his chest. “Thank you.”

Dean was startled by it, as he always was with hugs it seemed. But he wrapped his arms around Cas. Slowly at first, and then tightened them. “For what?” And found himself smelling Cas’s hair on accident, and wondering how he got it to have that kind of beach-like musk, when they were no where near the ocean.

“Thank you for teaching me how to be human.”

“Tell you what.” He said and pulled away to look at him. “How about we help each other out huh? Until we figure out how to go back to our normal selves. You give me angel lessons and I’ll give you human lessons. And in between we can focus on Sam getting better and finding Kevin. Then we can take down Crowley _and_ Abaddon.” He smiled gently. “Kick their asses for taking people we loved from us. The four of us stopped the apocalypse like twice already. I’m sure we could take down hell with our eyes closed.”

Cas laughed gently. Dean smiled. And they kept eye contact in that way that Dean found he only ever did with Cas. “And Michael and Lucifer? Gabriel?” Cas asked seeming worried.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. But for now,” He put an arm on Cas’s shoulder, “Go have a human moment and enjoy a hot shower.”

“A human moment.” He repeated.

Dean nodded. “Some of the best things about humanity are the little moments. Sleeping till noon, the smell of coffee, a hot shower.”

Cas wanted to mention that he’d had all of those in the time he’d been at the bunker since The Fall. But for some reason decided against it. “Okay.” He said and nodded turning to go to the shower, though he hesitated for some reason. He felt like a part of him was afraid Dean would run off recklessly again. But he was already rummaging through what they had in the kitchen. “You’re a good man Dean Winchester. Wings or not.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean said waving him off, his cheeks burning pink, though Cas couldn’t see with his back to him. “Go take your shower. You can use the red bottles. Those are mine.”

Cas smiled to himself and after one more moment watching him unnoticed, slipped out of the kitchen to the bathroom down the hall.

 _When two people fill up all the broken cracks inside each other._ Cas repeated in his mind. And he wondered if Dean had realized the relevance of those words.


	16. Flight lesson #1.

The next few weeks passed slowly. Dean had never felt more like a caged animal as he did then. So he did what he could to pass the time.

True to his promise, Dean taught Cas how to be human. How to cook, how to clean, how to eat without making yourself sick. Even Sam helped; pointing out the healthier things they could have, while Dean insisted on red meat almost every night.

Dean had been slipping what demon blood he could find in the storage of artifacts, into Sam’s food easily enough. By the second week Sam was back to normal, but as soon as Dean went a few days without giving it to him, he’d regress just as quickly. So he continued lying to his brother, teaching Cas how scrub behind his ears, and learning how to fly.

Well at least. That’s what they were doing today. His first flying lesson. After almost a month with the bloody things.

He’d been putting it off. Sure that there was no need to learn how to actually use them when he would be getting rid of them any day. But their research and investigations so far had been pointless dead ends. And Cas assured Dean that the first step to slipping his wings into a different plane to hide them in public, would be to learn how to use them properly. And now that Cas’s ribs seemed to be healed up fine (though they hadn’t been to the hospital since, so you who really knows?), he agreed that it would be a good idea.

At this point Dean would do anything to get out of this bunker and if learning to fly was the first step to making the damn things invisible enough to step outside, so be it. So he stood in the garage jumping a bit in place, stretching his arms to pump himself up, as Castiel smiled behind his hand. He ended up biting his knuckles to stop from laughing.

“Okay so what? Do I take a running start or…?” Dean looked at Cas expectantly, and caught the smile behind his fingers. His arms dropped, “What?” He asked with a smile. A smile so easy to his face now. One thing that wasn’t so upsetting about his imprisonment here, was how close he and Cas had gotten in the time they’d been having their 'lessons'. Sam spent most of the day sleeping or researching, as he still slowly recovered. And Dean was glad that he wasn’t showing any signs of his old weird-ass, powers. But that gave him and Cas almost every waking second together. Which he found he didn’t mind. He preferred Cas’s company to most other people anyway.

“You’re just… It’s not like Superman.” They had watched Man of Steel the other night, and Cas spent the whole time scoffing at it, in between moments of being enthralled.

“Okay what’s it like then?” He rolled his shoulders, allowing the wings to move gently.

“First let’s get you familiar with the mechanics.”

“Okay.” Dean rubbed his hands together, and Cas pushed down another grin.

“It should be second nature. But you obviously dislike them so you’re holding back.”

“Well, yeah.”

“You need to like them for this to work.”

“Well then this isn’t going to work.”

“Dean. Come on.” He said seeming unimpressed with his sass.

“I don’t like them Cas, what do you want me to say? They just feel... Attached. Like someone glued 'em on. It's uncomfortable.”

Cas pressed his lips together, his arms crossed and sighed. Dean grinned. “What?” Cas snapped.

“You just… You look cute. You’re like an angry little school TA or something.”

“TA?”

“Teacher’s assistant.”

“I am not an assistant Dean. I am your teacher.” And the seriousness in his voice made Dean erupt into giggles, to the point that he had to put a hand on his knee to stabilize himself. Cas did not find this funny. “Dean if you ever want to leave the bunker safely, you’re going to have to listen to me.”

“When have I ever done something safely?”

“Contrary to popular belief, you’re _actually_  very smart, when you pay attention. So I’m going to need you to focus.”

“Contrary to popular belief? What’s that supposed to mean? People think I’m stupid?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“A great deal of individuals in all manner of species.”

“He’s right you know.” Sam chimed in from the doorframe between the garage and the rest of the bunker, and Dean flipped him off.

“Aren’t you supposed to be scanning the news for hints of Kevin?” He snapped.

Sam left chuckling to himself, hands up in surrender. It almost bugged Dean more that Sam didn’t seem to care about the wings. He would have liked him to be as disgusted with them as he was himself. But instead he took it as something in stride. ‘ _So what if you can’t get rid of them? Cas had them. Wasn’t that bad. Might even be helpful._ ’ He growled at the memory, knowing that Sam was just teasing, but taking it to heart all the same.

“If you don’t choose to embrace them I’m going to have to trick your brain into associating them with positive feelings.”

“What, the fuck, is _that_ supposed to mean?” He said the words slowly, apprehensively even. Cas was sounding more like a serial killer than Dean would like.

Cas sighed and pulled out a small bottle from his back pocket, having been prepared for this, feeling like it was a large possibility that it would happen. "I have to sear them into your soul."

“What is that?” Dean asked his head quirking to the side, as he took a step back form him. "That sounds like not a good idea..." He put his hands up in defense.

“Do you trust me?”

“What _is_ that?”

“Holy oil.”

“What so you’re gonna burn me now?” He took another step back.

“Do you see a lighter in my hand Dean?” He sighed frustrated. “It’s for your wings.”

“For my wings? Why?”

“Because it helps connect them to your soul.”

“I don’t think I want that.” He shook his head stiffly.

“Dean!” He was tired of this weird cat and mouse thing, of walking towards Dean only to have him back away from him. “Do you want to control them or not?”

Dean let out a throaty growl of frustration but stopped moving and sighed. “Fine.”

Cas walked behind Dean and watched the muscles on his back move tensely, the fact that he wasn’t wearing a shirt, not as distracting anymore, given that Dean still couldn’t figure out how to put one on even after a month of trying different kinds of home made 'wing holes'.

He paused and glanced at the feathers. “You might want something to hold on to.” Cas took a step to go get a chair that was a few yards away but Dean stopped him.

“No wait.” And he held out his hand, curling his fingers in slightly as if he was holding and imaginary ball and concentrated. His forehead creased and his cheeks turned a bit red, as the chair barely moved. An inch at first and then slowly it dragged itself over. So slowly in fact that Cas could have went and grabbed it and brought it back twice, in the time it took to slide to a halt in front of Dean. But when it arrived Dean relaxed and let out a breath he was holding with a grin. “I’m getting better right?”

“Much better. Just remember to breathe. You always hold your breath. If you were a real angel it wouldn’t be such a problem but you’re denying oxygen to your brain, which is where most of the mental powers, center for you.”

Dean rolled his eyes and flipped the chair so he was holding on to the back of it. “Yeah, yeah.”

"But you have improved dramatically. Yes."

Dean beamed, though Cas couldn't see.

Cas poured some of the oil onto his hands, putting the bottle back in his pocket, and rubbed them together gently before glancing up at his wings. His breath hitched for a moment and he hesitated.

Dean didn’t say anything, but braced himself. He was expecting this to hurt. To feel just as soul ripping as when Cas had to break each individual joint and push it back into place. He was prepared for that kind of pain. That kind of knee shaking fire inside him that screamed through his veins.

What he was not prepared for was that the second Cas’s fingers threaded through the feathers, working the oil down to the hilt of his wings, brushing through methodically coating each feather with the substance, that he would feel the world shift beneath him.

“Fu-hu-huuuuuck.” He stuttered out, feeling his insides coil up. He was white knuckling the back of the chair, his eyes closed as he tried to keep from buckling over. Cas poured more onto his hands, and continued down the length of Dean’s wings. Slowly. Methodically. Like he had done it a thousand times before. Which Dean realized, he probably had.

As he continued Dean couldn’t remember where he was. He felt like the earth didn’t exist anymore. Like he was somewhere else completely. Somewhere made of lights and sounds and feelings and he must have been saying something because he felt the vibration of his voice through his throat but couldn’t hear anything. All he could focus on were the stars and the swirling around him and the tightening inside of his chest that threaded through to his fingertips and toes. Electricity was pulsing through him and he felt Cas move to the other wing. He heard himself say the others name, but whether or not, Cas responded, he didn’t know, because he was lost in that world again. That transcendental experience that seemed like an out of body experience, except not. Except it was exactly the opposite of that. Because he had never felt so connected to his own body before. He could feel every piece of himself, every molecule ever essence all the way through to the tip of his wings. The coiling inside of himself seemed to tightened and just when he didn’t know if he was going to be able to take much more, Cas did one final run of his hands along the top of the largest wing bone, the one that ran along the top holding all the pieces together, starting at the base, next to Dean’s shoulder blades, and firmly running his hands, still slick with oil, down to the tips of the feathers at the very end. And Dean once again, saw colors that he had never even thought he could comprehend. Saw, felt, and heard, things he didn't have the vocabulary for.

It took him a while to pull back to reality, but when he did he was still trying to catch his breath. "Fuck..."

Cas’s cheeks were red.

“What?”

“You just… Said my name a lot.”

Dean’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t push it. He couldn’t really remember much of the last few minutes. He _was_ however very aware of his wings. More so than he thought possible. It felt like they were just an extension of him. Something that was a part of him. Less like his arms or his legs, but more like his eyes or his sense of smell. Something that gave him a comprehension of his surroundings. Something that made him feel safe. Whole. And that thought scared the crap out of him. He opened his mouth to say so, but when he caught Cas’s gaze again he stopped.

“What?” He asked again.

“I just… Think we might want to post-pone the flying lesson for a bit.”

“Why? It worked.” He flapped his wings on trial and felt no pain in them, no remorse for how they moved, no awkwardness. They no longer felt like they were attached to him. They felt like they were a part of him. “It’s fucking weird but it worked.” He didn’t want to linger on it too long. But Cas still wouldn’t make eye contact with him.

“Well you may want to grab a different pair of pants.”

Dean looked confused and slightly wary but glanced down to his jeans, and let go of the back of the chair, noticing wetness in the front of them, and feeling the stickiness inside his boxers for the first time since coming out of that weird trip. “Aw man. COME ON!” His cheeks turned red. No wonder he had felt that crashing sense of euphoria at the end of it all. 

“I thought that might happen.”

“YOU THOUGHT IT MIGHT HAPPEN!? _And you didn’t think to tell me?_ ”

“Re-healing with holy oil has never been done on an angel with a primarily human soul. I wasn’t sure how it would affect you. Angels aren’t normally as sexually driven as you are. To be frank I don't think most _humans_ are as sexually driven as you are.”

Dean groaned and started walking quickly towards the door to go back to his room.  “I hate you so much right now.”

And before Cas could question it, he was gone, leaving the small human to bite his lip and slowly pick up the chair, to put it back where it went against the wall.

Dean breezed past Sam in the hall, obviously angry, but went by so fast that Sam didn’t notice his clothes, or Dean's embarrassment. “Whoa, dude, what happened?”

“Don’t want to talk about it.” He said sharply, before slamming his bedroom door.


	17. Nightmares for Cas.

Ever since the night Kevin left, Cas and Dean had acquired this sort of unspoken agreement for their sleeping arrangement. Because every time he’d try to sleep in his own bed by himself, Cas would wake up screaming. Drenched in his own sweat, terrified of this human part of him. He would slowly pad over to Dean’s room, his door open a crack and knock gently. The first few times it happened Dean would just sigh and nod. “Alright.” He’d say. “But you need to get a hold on this stuff, Cas.” And he would promise he would. That he was trying. But after half a dozen more times it just became part of their monotony. Cas rarely tried to sleep on his own at all anymore. Instead he waited until Sam’s door was closed, went to Dean’s room, and gave him that small sheepish look that showed he realized how uncomfortable Dean felt about it, but that he really seemed to not be able to sleep without him. And so Dean would slip into Cas’s room for the night. They stopped speaking of it, or drawing attention to it altogether. After another handful of times, Cas didn’t even have to ask. Dean would show up at his door, and his eyes would always ask, and Cas would always nod, and he would sigh and slide into the bed next to him, letting his wings drape over the other. Dean had all but completely stopped sleeping, the angel part of him making bodily needs less apparent. He would just lay there with his eyes closed, listening to Cas’s breathing, and as soon as it was just barely morning, he would slip out of the room before Cas woke up, and slip back into his own room, before Sam noticed anything. Then they would go about their day as if it hadn’t happened. As if it wouldn’t happen again that night. Dean would learn how to control his newly forming powers and Cas would learn how to properly tip a waitress. Then Dean would slide into Cas’s room silently, once Sam was asleep, and it would start all over again.

But not tonight.

A few hours after the holy oil incident, Cas went to knock on Dean’s door to apologize. Though for what he wasn’t sure. But Sam had said once that sometimes you just need to apologize for upsetting the other person, even if you didn’t know how it had happened or why. The important part was to validate that they're upset and that it was somehow your fault.

But the Winchester was either listening to his headphones, or ignoring him. So Cas slinked back to his room, not noticing Sam standing at the end of the hall, looking concerned, as he shut his door.

He waited, as he always did. But when he looked at the clock and it flashed the green numbers ‘3:12’ Cas reached up and turned off the lamp next to the bed, his eyes burning from the need to sleep. Dean always came before one, at the latest. So he slid down into the covers and tried to imagine the feeling of Dean’s warmth beside him. The gentle rise and fall of his breathing that caused his wings to shift softly as they rested against Cas’s shoulders, no longer as sensitive as they once were. The wings that were now tolerant enough to wrap around Cas, pressing against his back, as he relished the ease of the warmth beside him.

But his imagination was not as powerful as he wished it to be. At least not while he was awake. And as soon as he was yanked down into the darkness of unconscious sleep, the nightmares he’d forgotten, ravaged his psyche worse than before. As if they’d been building while he forgot about them and now the dam inside his mind had broken, spilling into his dreams without Dean there to protect him.

 * * *

His mind is filled with snapped wings, and burning feathers and the eyes of every person he’s ever watched die. But as the nightmares dragged on, the most startling of all was the reappearance of Naomi’s training room. And he watched himself kill Dean over, and over, and over again. At first it’s just the memory of the actual events. The knife through his stomach. His grace smiting him through his hand. The sound of his head hitting the wall so hard that it cracks and he goes limp. But soon the dream morphs from the reality and Dean's calling to Cas from all sides, and the angel is trying to stop himself.

“ _I need you._ ” Dean says. Over. And over.

“ _Stop._ ” Cas cries watching his hands snap Dean’s neck. Push a blade through the bottom of his jaw through his head. “ _I don’t want to do this!_ ” Slicing his stomach open. “ _Please!_ ”

“ _I need you._ ”

Head cut off. Eyes burned out. Jaw shattered.

And then all at once all of the hundreds of Dean’s vanish and it’s just the one, and he's chained to the ceiling feet from the wall behind him, and he’s not one of Naomi’s copies. He's the real Dean, Cas can tell somehow, and he's begging.

“ _I need you._ ”

And Cas is trying to stop but he can’t. He doesn’t have any control. And he slices Dean open from his naval to his ribs, reaches inside of him wrapping his fist around Dean’s soul. And all the while, in between the screams, Dean just keeps repeating those words, “ _I need you. I need you. I need you._ ” And Cas twists his hand and Dean’s wings expand to their full wingspan, and lock there, against their will. Cas pulls out his blood soaked hand, grabs the top of the end of one wing, and snaps it.

Dean cries out, then murmurs the words again. “ _I need you._ ”

The angel blade is in Cas’s hand and in one quick motions he slices off the part of the wing that was now broken.

“ _Cas!_ ” That’s the first time he’s said his name in all of this. Cas tries to stop, but can’t.

“ _You wanted them gone._ ” He hears the words in his voice, but he didn’t say them. Didn’t mean to say them. He didn’t _want_ to say them.

He was trapped in his own body, no control over it. Just watching Dean, covered in blood, tears streaming down his face, teeth bared as he cries out in pain, throwing his head back towards the pristinely white wall, splattered with blood, like a grotesque painting.

And he snaps another portion.

“ _Cas please!_ ”

He cuts it off with a sharp ‘ ** _shink_** ’ noise.

_“Stop!”_

_**Snap.** _

_“Cas!”_

_**Shink.** _

_“Please!”_

_**Snap.** _

_“I need you!”_

_**Shink.** _

_“I NEED you!”_

The words come out in sobs between the screams and when the job is done and Dean is left hanging, his head bent, two stubs of what were wings lay bloody and broken, still attached to his shoulder blades.

 _I’m sorry._ Cas tries to say. What comes out is, “ _I believe you have something of mine._ ”

He shoves his hand back into the open wound of Dean’s stomach, his hand pushing past what organs were still trying to function and wraps his fingers greedily over Dean’s soul, his grace shining out from between his fingers. Dean’s screams deafen his ears and he wrenches the celestial item from him in one quick motion with such violence that it startles him awake.

 * * *

Cas sat straight up still screaming. It took him a second to stop, putting a hand over his mouth as he glanced at the door. But no one came. Of course they didn't. The rooms were sound proof after all. Isn’t that what Kevin had said?

He continued to shake, and no matter what he did he couldn't get himself to stop. He ran a hand through his hair, finding it plastered to his forehead in his own sweat. He looked at his hands, the hands that killed a hundred Dean’s at Naomi’s orders. The hands that ripped Dean’s soul from him. And all of a sudden everything is blurred, and his chest is heaving, and he’s sobbing into those hands.

He hated being human.

He wasn’t strong enough to be human.

He wasn’t worthy of being a human.

He was Castiel.

A poor excuse for an angel when he was one.

A traitor to his brothers and sisters.

A terrible friend to the few he had.

And a danger to them all.

In that moment he felt less than useless. He felt like a problem. A failure. And if he hadn’t had such a respect for life, he would have ended his right then.

But he wasn’t a coward. And he refused to take that path no matter how tempting.

So instead he sobbed. Because it was what was happening, and he couldn't stop it anyway, and there was no one here to judge him for it. Chest-racking, exhausting sobs, pulled at him, until he was too tired to move and sleep took him once more, only to torture him until he woke up screaming again.

For once Castiel wished that Dean hadn’t gotten such a hold on his angel radio. Because he whispered his name so many times to try and calm himself down. But he didn’t dare _pray_ for him. A small part of him hoped that Dean would sense something was wrong and push open his bedroom door.

But he never came. 

Instead the torturous night went on.

Castiel’s screams were only heard by the still bare walls of his room.

He cried for his father. He cried for his brothers and sisters. The souls he’d wrongfully damned. But most of all he cried for the Winchesters. Because his nightmares were a fraction of what they had to deal with. And he was amazed and terrified at how strong he now knew they were.

And he realized, just how weak he really was.


	18. Teach an angel to date.

Dean had started to get a hold of maneuvering around his wings as the time had past. This meant that after he stormed off to his room, cleaned himself up, and changed, he could lie comfortably on his bed as he used to before the damn things. He laid on his back, staring at the ceiling, his jaw set. His wings were fully extended to each side, so the bones laid flat between his back and the mattress. His own weight on them, not feeling much different than if he’d slept on his arm. It wasn’t the best feeling in the world, especially now that he was somehow more aware of them than he had been before, but he was sick of lying on his stomach all the time, and it was worth the minor discomfort to do something that made him feel normal.

So he laid there, on his back, wings outstretched, and stared at the ceiling. His mind racing. He was tired of everything. Tired of this whole angel crap. Tired of not being good enough. Tired of letting the damn things control his life. He wouldn’t go back to his flight lesson today, he was too ashamed for storming off the way he did. More so than the actual _incident_. But tomorrow he would get control of the damn things. He was determined.

Hearing the voices in his head start to rise, as they usually did at night, he grabbed his headphones from the side table and slipped them on, turning the music on as loud as his ears could manage, and closed his eyes.

He had stopped sleeping altogether now. But he still took solace in pretending to sleep. It made him feel more human. So he lay there listening to Led Zeppelin and tried to focus on that metaphorical Impala radio, to turn it all the way down.

When midnight rolled around he opened his eyes and almost got up. He looked at his door, and bit his lip as he did when he was caught in his own Catch-22. But he was too embarrassed to go to Cas tonight. The guy would be okay for one night. Tomorrow he would suck it up, pretend the incident hadn’t happened, and ask Cas to continue their lesson. So he turned the volume up, and laid back down.

A few times in the night, his eyes snapped open as something in his chest jumped when he thought he heard his name. But the sound was gone as soon as it came. He looked around his room, and shrugged it off as the angel radio playing tricks on his brain. Like when you’re in a bar and you think you heard someone talking about you, but they just said someone’s name that sounds like yours. That must have been it. Just his mind playing tricks on him.

So again he laid back down, and closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe, and focus on turning down the voices in his head, letting the music replace their nagging tones.

The next morning Dean changed into a pair of jeans and slid his boots on. If he was going to have to walk around without a shirt on, he was going to at least wear as many clothes as he could otherwise.

He went to the kitchen and made coffee, out of habit but didn’t drink any, finding his appetite had all but disappeared along with his sleeping habits. So he made a cup, slipping in some demon blood he had been keeping in the back of one of the cabinets and mixed it, tasting it to make sure the bite of blood was covered before his brother walked in, groggy from a nights sleep.

“Made ya coffee.”

“Thanks." He nodded taking the mug. Dean watched him take a swig, and noticed that his cheeks seemed to have more color than they had the last few days. Maybe he was just going to get better and there wouldn't be any nasty side effects from this. But as soon as the thought came, he felt stupid for thinking so naively. 

“Eggs and bacon okay?” He asked, starting to go through the fridge. Since he’d been locked up here with nothing but angel lessons all day, Dean had turned to cooking and watching what old movies he could find in the storage, to pass his time otherwise. He made almost every meal for the other two. And he was glad that they didn’t mention how he’d stopped eating altogether, or how domestic it was.

“Yeah. Thanks.” He nodded again, watching Dean before deciding to voice his thoughts. “What’s up with you and Cas?”

Dean tensed. And had it not been for the wings it would have gone unnoticed, but they twitched along with his shoulders.

“What do you mean?”

“Did you get in fight or something?”

“It was just, stupid angel stuff.” He waved it off, laying the bacon out in the pan.

“He seemed pretty broken up about it.”

Dean’s eyebrows knitted together for a moment, but he kept his eyes on the stove. “What?”

“He knocked on your door last night, looking like a kicked puppy.”

“I had my headphones in.”

“What did you say to him?”

“I didn’t say anything to him. Something just went wrong, and I didn’t want to deal with anymore angel crap yesterday, so I went to my room.” He cracked the eggs into the pan, letting them mix with the bacon grease.

“Did you yell at him?”

“Sam, he’s not a child. Half the time he yells right back. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“He’s kind of like a child.”

Dean felt kind of gross, thinking of Cas as a child. A child that he slept with on a regular basis. A child that smelled like wood and sand and waves. A child that had skin abnormally soft in comparison to how rough his voice was. And he shook it off. “Drop it Sam.”

“Just saying.”

And Cas slowly drifted into the room like a ghost then. A blue undershirt that had been Dean’s, and grey sweat pants that were so big on him they covered the tops of his bare feet.

“Morning sunshine.” Dean said, seeing him out of the corner of his eye and sliding the food onto two plates. He turned, holding them out to his two housemates. “Hungry?” But the second his eyes met Cas’s face, his smile dropped. “Cas?” He asked worried. “You okay?” He looked terrible. There were bags under his eyes; so dark it looked like he’d gotten punched in the face. His eyes were blood shot, and he held his arms around himself protectively, like he was afraid something might get him, just standing there.

“I just didn’t sleep very well.” He murmured.

Sam, always one to read a situation, took his plate and his coffee and slipped out of the kitchen, with nothing but a soft, ' _Morning._ ' smile to Cas.

Dean watched him go, and then turned back to Cas, setting the plate down on the island, forgotten.

“What happened?”

Cas rubbed his arm, feeling embarrassed but not sure why. He was rarely embarrassed when he was an angel. In fact he couldn’t remember a time he had been. But it seemed shame was a default emotion for humans. And that thought alone made him more upset than he already was. “Just… Nightmares.”

“All this from nightmares?” When he used to sleep, Dean would wake up screaming sometimes, sure. He'd been through hell (literally) after all. But he would always pack it back down, grab a beer to numb his mind and go back to sleep with the television on to drown out the demons in his memories.

“Yes.” He said almost sharply. Not everyone was as good at repressing memories and nightmares as Dean Winchester. And Cas found himself feeling bitter about it.

“We need to figure out how to get those under control if they’re really bothering you that much.”

“I’m fine when you’re there.”

Dean’s eyes went to the kitchen entrance, as if he expected Sam to be standing there listening. But they were alone. “I can’t sleep with you forever Cas.”

“Just until I get my grace back. Remember? That’s what you said. Then I won't need to sleep and it won't be a problem.”

Dean pressed his lips together and sighed. For a split second he had assumed they’d be stuck like this. Like this was the hand they’d been dealt and they had to deal with it. And for once it was Cas that was refusing to believe they’d never go back to normal.

When he didn’t say anything Cas spoke again. “I know how much you dislike it. But it really does help...”

“I don’t dislike it.” He said quickly. Defensively.

“Then why is it a secret? You only keep secrets when you’re ashamed. The Demon blood? Meg’s death? Us?”

“There is no ' _us'_ , Cas.”

“What do you mean?”

Dean ran a hand through his hair. “Never mind.”

“No. I want to know. Do you not consider us friends anymore?”

“No that’s not what I meant.”

“Then I want to know what you meant.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Dean, I’m losing it, and I can't ignore how hard this is anymore. I’ve been making sure that your powers are what we’re focusing on, because they serve the biggest threat to us right now. But you are a _much_ better angel than I am a human.”

Dean opened his mouth but Cas pressed on.

“And I am constantly in a state of frustrated confusion or fear. I’m learning how to care for myself when I have only ever known how to care for others and it’s hard. It is very difficult for me, Dean. So when I ask you a question, it is not because I have an ulterior motive, or because I want to make you uncomfortable. It is simply because I do not understand, and I wish to. So if you could stop thinking about just your ego and your fear of dissolving your definition of manliness, I would like you to explain to me what you mean when you say there is no ‘us’. Because with everything that’s been happening, that’s all that I thought I actually understood, was _us_.”

Dean eyes were filled with guilt, and confusion, and apprehension. But he swallowed, and spoke softly. “When you say ‘us’ it implies a romantic relationship. Which we aren’t. We’re friends.”

“Okay.” Cas still looked a bit confused. “Why were you so hostile about it?”

Dean wanted to brush it off again but he saw the broken, confused look in Cas’s eyes, and decided that he would make a promise to himself to answer all of Cas’s questions from now on. It was the least he could do, after being so selfish these past few weeks. “Because what we are is already kind of confusing. And I don’t want to confuse it more.”

“But you just said, we’re only friends.”

“People who are ‘just friends’ don’t tend to sleep in the same bed on a regular basis.”

"So we're _not_ friends?"

"We are. It's just not normal to do that unless you're romantically involved."

“Do you only do that in a romantic situation?”

“Well… yeah. Usually.” He was reminded of when he and Sam would share hotel bed's on the road. Their dad sleeping in the other one. But that was something that would confuse Castiel even more, that kind of young brotherly love. And that moment when you were suddenly too old to sleep in the same bed as your brother. He didn't need to get hung up on that kind of stuff. Not now anyway.

“So does that mean we are in a romantic relationship?”

“No, Cas.”

“Then what’s the difference?”

He could tell that this lack of understanding was frustrating for Cas. He rubbed his face, getting more frustrated and uncomfortable laying this all out on the table. He wasn’t good at talking about feelings in general, but talking about his _own_ feelings felt like literal pain.

“People who are dating-“

“You didn’t say anything about dating.”

“Just let me get this out Cas.”

“But we’re not talking about dating.”

“For right now, just assume it’s the same thing.”

“As a romantic relationship?”

“Yes.” He snapped. And groaned rubbing his eyes, before continuing. “When people are dating they hold hands, they kiss, they fuck. But they also do things like _just_ sleep, and spend all day together, and care about each other.” He pulled his hands away from his face. “And that’s why this is so fucked up.” He motioned between them, and seeing the hurt in Cas’s eyes, clarified. “Because what we’re doing is like, half dating. But neither one of us want to _date_ each other, so it’s weird.”

“When did I say I didn’t want to date you?”

Dean froze. “What?”

“You say it like you know. Like I explicitly told you.”

“Well I… I’m assuming.”

“You don’t want to date me?”

“That's not what I said.” Cas looked like he was taking this personal, and Dean didn't want to hurt his feelings right now. He didn't want to deal with that.

"But it's what you meant."

"Not exactly."

“Is it because you don’t want to do all that it entails?”

“Sure. Yeah.”

“So you don’t want to spend all day together? Or sleep with me?”

“That’s not what I said-“

“But it’s what it sounds like you mean.”

"I didn't say I didn't want to sleep with you."

“So you do?”

“Yes!” God he was getting sick of this back and forth. It felt like he was trying to define sexuality and it was something he was not comfortable with.

Cas was silent as he thought for a moment, as if he was slowly putting gears into place to see if they turned correctly. “How do you know if you want to date someone? If you _want_ a romantic relationship?”

Dean sighed and sat down, his wings relaxed against him, as if they were just as tired of this conversation as he was. “I don’t know Cas, you just do.”

“I need a bit more guidance here Dean. I’m new to this.”

“You planning to meet someone?” He half teased.

“Dean…” He pleaded.

“Okay, okay. Um…” He tried to think about it, and rubbed his eyes. “When you look at them, you can feel your insides kind of jump a bit. You want to know them. To ask them questions about themselves. And if after hanging out with them on a regular basis for a while you’re not sick of them, you start to want to know not just the stories they tell, but also their body.” Dean was rubbing the skin between his eyebrows, his eyes closed, his elbow resting on the table as he thought. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to get this all out if he looked at Cas and saw the expression of innocence and wonder in his eyes. So he kept them closed, and his head bent slightly. “You start to realize you want to spend as much time as possible with them. When you’re away from them, you wish they were there. So you can feel their skin, but also just hear their voice. They… re-charge you. Make you better.”

“They fill up all the cracks inside you.”

“Yes.” Dean said looking up again. And there was something in Cas’s eyes that frightened him. Something that held a truth he didn’t want to look at. "Dating is sort of a test drive to see if you love someone. If you're _in_ love with them."

“And what do I do if I find someone who does all those things?”

“Fall in love. Hope that they love you back.”

“But if you’re dating you hold hands and kiss and fuck.”

The way the swear fell off Cas’s lips, made goose bumps erupt on the back of Dean’s neck, and his feathers flex. But he ignored it. And if Cas noticed he didn’t say anything. “Yeah.”

“So what if they make you feel like that, but you don’t do those things?”

“Well it depends.”

“On what?”

“How long you’ve been dating.”

“How do you know how long you’ve been dating?”

“The time since your first date.”

“And what qualifies a date?” It was something that he’d always been baffled by. There didn’t seem to be any sort of actual definition, in the time he’d been watching humans. It seemed so conditional on the people involved.

“Um… A joint activity? Ask them if they want to do something with you.”

“Like a flying lesson?”

Dean snorted, “No. God no. Coffee or a beer. Or something more entailed. Like dinner and a movie. A walk on a beach. Drive your car up to a ridge and watch the sunset. Y’know. Romantic stuff.”

“To start the ‘romantic relationship’. “

“Right.”

“And after you do that, then the physical stuff happens?”

“Sometimes.” He shrugged. “Sometimes it takes a while. Depends on the person and what they're comfortable with. In our line of work though you kind of have to just go for it. If you find a girl you really like, and she likes you back, I’d say just kiss her. See what happens. Worst thing that could happen is she says 'no'. Then we’re usually off to another town anyway." His voice shifted to a more parental tone. "But if she says 'no' you listen, you got it?” Though Dean hardly felt that consent was something Castiel was going to have trouble with. Angel's seem to thrive on it. Though they could twist it to their needs if they wanted. So maybe it would be an issue. He was unsure about it. The philosophy of angel's and consent. 

"Yeah..." Cas blinked a few times, seeming to have gotten lost a bit. 

“Basically,” Dean went on, “If you think you might like someone enough, that you get those tingly feelings, ask them to go to dinner, and if you still like them at the end of it, kiss ‘em. See if they kiss back. And go from there. Easy enough?”

“I guess…” Cas’s facial expression seemed to be stuck in that signature squint of his, and it made Dean press his lips together, trying to hide his grin. It was like giving dating advice to a teenage boy. A really adorable teenage boy that needed to be re-taught how to shave because he missed a spot right under his jaw on the left side.

“Why are you so interested in this? Got someone in mind?” He said and leaned across the island to nudge him gently.

“Yes.” He said simply, still lost in his own thoughts.

Dean was caught off guard by the comment. “Oh…” Who? Had he met someone in the handful of times he’d gone to the store with Sam? Seemed unlikely. But good for him, Dean figured.

“Thank you, Dean.” He said and picked up the plate, making to leave. Heading toward the library.

“Wait, are we gonna work on flying today?”

“Not today.” He said and turned out of the kitchen.

“I made coffee!!” He called after him.

“That’s great, Dean!” He called back. As if a small child just exclaimed his pride in drawing a picture, and he was being encouraging.

Dean sighed and shook his head with a small smile, and a roll of his eyes, as he started to clean up the kitchen.

Teaching an angel how to date.

He could write self-help book. Make millions, with all the angels that were stuck here now. Probably be on Oprah. He laughed at the thought and continued to scrub the plate, and for once, he felt at ease.

Maybe he should be focusing more on Cas’s human lessons.

Explaining it to him, seemed to remind Dean that he still _was_ human. Even with the wings. That they couldn’t take everything from him. Not the things that really made him human. The things that really mattered. Like his personality. His experiences. His ability to love. Even if it felt schmaltzy. He was glad he had the ability to care. He'd spent so long telling himself that caring was a weakness. But now he was sure the opposite was true.


	19. A lesson in broken hearts.

After two days of not seeing Cas (their sleeping arrangement now having dissolved since their misunderstanding), Dean was starting to worry. It wasn’t that Cas was missing. But he spent all of his time in the library reading, or watching movies intently and taking notes.

When Dean would ask him what he was doing, Cas would reply simply “Human research.” And leave it at that, almost waving Dean off. Normally it wouldn’t have mattered to him, but Dean was starting to get fidgety again. He wanted to get out of this stupid bunker. He wondered if this was how Kevin felt, being locked up like this. On occasion Dean would find himself staring at the front door, at the top of the stairs, from his seat at the table in the main room, and he’d have to tear his eyes from it.

This had gone on too long and if Cas wasn’t going to teach him how to control his wings, then he could figure it out himself. So Dean went to the garage, determined, and stood in the middle, as far from any cars as he could, and unfurled his wings.

“Okay. Can’t be that hard right? Birds do it. Stupid fuckers. So can you.” He rolled his shoulders and the feathers made a swishing sound, as if wind passed through them. He tried moving his shoulders a bit; tensing his back and relaxing it, trying to find the mechanic that would get them to flap correctly. Or at all.

After a few tries he had gotten them to move down and back up again in a simple enough manner, but it wasn’t at any sort of speed that would help him. And it wasn’t the elegant kind of movement that any other winged creature could do. But he continued, focusing as much as he could. He closed his eyes, clenched his fists, and pushed his mind to control the unruly things. Then he felt the glow inside of him start to spread out. He’d been trying to control it, not sure what it was. He hadn’t told Cas of it’s growing strength because he had a feeling his friend would tell him to embrace it, and he wasn’t ready for that yet. Wasn't ready to embrace being a freak more than he already had. But Dean had a feeling it had something to do with his soul or his newfound grace, so he stayed as far from it was possible, repressing it along with a storage unit of bad memories. But now his wings ached for it, and he was so focused on getting them to do whatever it was that they were supposed to do, that the bronze, shining light, started at his chest and spanned out through his veins like blood in the cracks of a sidewalk. It threaded through him, until it fanned out over his feathers causing them to brighten the garage. He hadn’t realized how focused he was, or how bright he had made the garage until he heard a knock on the wall near the door, and snapped out of it, causing the light to vanish.

Sam stood looking startled and uneasy, having witnessed the end of the divine moment.

“What?” Dean asked, before Sam could inquire about his practice session.

“Cas wants you.”

“Why didn’t he just come get me himself?” He was suspicious. This seemed like a trap. For what, he didn't know.

Sam opened his mouth, but just took a breath and sighed.

“What?” Dean asked again.

“You gotta go easy on him, Dean.”

“What are you talking about?”

Sam ran a hand through his hair, in a way that was so Winchester; Dean realized just how much of their mannerisms they shared between them. “He just… He’s very emotionally fragile. Remember that.”

“You keep saying that but you’re wrong. You’re forgetting how strong he is. Which is kind of upsetting, coming from you.”

“He doesn’t understand human emotion. Like, at all.”

“He understands enough.”

“Yeah well you’re not the best example for him, now are you?” Sam snapped.

Dean closed his mouth, and looked at his brother, his face giving away a slight defensive inkling of hurt.

“Just…” Sam went on. “Don’t freak out on him tonight. He’s just trying to do… Something…”

“What are you _talking_ about?”

“Just go.” Sam motioned back into the house, defeated. “He’s in the back room.”

Dean looked at him suspiciously but slowly made his way to the doorway. But just as he passed, his brother grabbed his arm, and Dean’s head snapped to face him.

“Don’t get mad at him. I told him it wasn’t a good idea. That you wouldn’t like it. But he’s determined.”

Dean’s eyebrows knitted in confusion, and slight worry.

“Just don’t hurt him. He’s broken enough already.” And he let go.

Dean had to bite his tongue. Cas was far from broken. Cas was whole and pure and stronger than anyone else he knew. Stronger than Bobby or his father or anyone else that had ever saved their ass's more times than he could count. The fact that Sam saw him this way made him feel uneasy. The idea shifted in his gut uncomfortably.

He made his way to the room at the back of the bunker. The room where they watched movies when they could. The room that was something a single guy would have in his basement. But as he peaked his head around the corner he stopped to look at Cas sitting on the floor on one side of the coffee table, his back to the blank television. He looked up and smiled at Dean, and he couldn’t help but mirror it.

“I made dinner!” He exclaimed. And indeed he had. Dean took a step inside the room to see two settings on the coffee table. An overdone chicken breast, with potatoes and slices of tomatoes. He had to press his lips together to stop from laughing. It was an odd combination. But Cas looked so earnest, and Sam’s voice filtered through his mind, though he didn’t need reminding that he shouldn’t tease Cas about being human too relentlessly.

He sat opposite the other on the floor. “I don’t really eat anymore, Cas.” Cas’s face melted into one of disappointment with the startling realization. Of course Dean didn’t eat anymore. His powers were more than half-way manifested. He didn’t need to sustain his vessel anymore. His grace would do that for him.

“But I am kind of hungry.” Dean added hastily and picked up a fork to try some of the potatoes. He stopped himself from making a face. They were powdered. Why would Cas make powdered mashed potatoes when they had actual ones?

But it was worth the struggle just to see Cas’s expression relax into a smile.

“All healthy human meals have meat, starch, and fruit or vegetable supplement. I also got water.” He said pushing the glass towards Dean, who took it gratefully to wash the taste out of his mouth.

“You didn’t have to do this Cas. I don’t mind cooking, really.”

Cas shrugged. “You never let me apologize for what happened-“

“Cas it’s fine. Really. We don’t have to talk about it…”

“-So I wanted to do something kind for you to put me back in your good graces.”

Dean gave him a soft sad smile. “Cas, you will _always_ be in my 'good graces'.”

“That’s not true. When I betrayed you to work with Crowley you did not like me.”

“Well yeah but-“

“And when I played god.”

"Okay but-"

"Or when I almost killed you for the tablet-"

“Okay, yes. Cas, sometimes you make mistakes. And sometimes they’re very large mistakes. But that’s only human-…” He realized what he’d said as soon as the words went past his lips, and stopped himself, keeping his eyes on Cas to gauge his reaction to the insensitive statement.

“… Suppose I should get use to it then.” He said softly, shifting uncomfortably.

After a thick silence, Dean took another bite, hiding his grimace. “You should eat.”

Cas nodded and picked up his own utensil.

They ate in silence for a while.

“Thanks. Cas.” Dean finally said. Cas looked up at him. “This was very… nice.” God this was awkward.

“You’re welcome.” He nodded.

“But why are we eating in here? Why not in the main room?”

“I thought we could watch a film.” He said as if he’d just remembered.

Cas handed Dean a DVD box. “I believe this may be the only ‘Clint Eastwood’ movie you have not seen.”

Dean smiled, as he looked to the back of the Gran Torino box. “You’re right.”

Cas beamed. “Would you like to watch it with me?”

“ ‘Rated R for strong language and some violence throughout’ “ He read. “You sure you want to watch this, Cas?”

“If I can handle hunting demons with you two, I’m sure I can withstand some blasphemy and human on human violence. It’s nothing I haven’t witnessed before.”

That was true. But it didn’t make Dean feel any better. He knew Cas was strong. He knew he wasn’t as fragile as Sam seemed to think. But Cas was something pure in his mind. Something that Dean wanted to keep clean from this kind of world. He wanted Cas to stay that same guy who told a whore that it wasn’t her fault her father left. The guy that could make him smile with his innocence. He didn’t want him to get sucked in to the Winchester family business like this. To turn into one of them. Cold to the world. But it may have been too late now.

“Well let’s move to the couch then.” He decided.

Cas nodded in agreement, taking the box from him and putting the movie in. Dean wondered how he learned how to work the DVD player, and decided it must have been Sam.

After it had been set up, Dean took the remote from the side table, as Cas sat next to him, a bit too close to be comfortable. But Dean had gotten used to Cas’s lack of understanding of personal space by now, and honestly he didn’t think it would be worth it to point it out right now. However, as soon as the movie started, and Cas leaned back, he leaned right into Dean’s wings, which curled around him instinctively.

“Sorry.” Dean said quickly.

But before he could shift, and recoil them, Cas shook his head and kept his eyes on the screen. “It’s comforting.”

So he paused, and then slowly relaxed into the seat, one wing resting, folded at his side, the other around Cas gently.

The movie was long. Longer than he was expecting. But he enjoyed it. And when the credits began to roll, he realized that in the last hour Cas had shifted so that he was leaning entirely against Dean, his hand on his leg. Another thing that made him slightly uncomfortable was how fast Cas’s heart was racing. Which was odd because he shouldn’t have been able to tell. But Dean’s angelic perception was starting to grow stronger, and he could hear the blood in his veins if he concentrated enough.

“You okay?”

Cas looked up at him. “Yes. Did you enjoy the movie?”

“Yeah.” He smiled. “Sam would like it. We should have invited him to join.”

“I just wanted to be with you.”

“Oh…” Dean’s eyebrows moved together in a second of confusion, before relaxing again. Was Cas not getting along with Sam?

“Did you enjoy our time together? Would you have rather had Sam here?”

“No! No it was great. The food was… great. And the movie was great.”

“So you had a good time?”

“Well… yes.” What was he getting at?

“Would you like to do it again sometime?”

“I mean… sure?” This was getting weirdly formal. It was as if Cas was saying lines he’d memorized from somewhere. Words that didn’t sound right, in his mouth.

But Cas looked as if he’d just passed a hurdle he was worried about making, and moved a bit from within Dean’s wing to be more at eye level with him. “Did… Did _you_ enjoy it?” Dean asked cautiously. Why was he so close?

“Yes.” He said firmly and after keeping uncomfortably strong eye contact, leaned forward to take Dean’s lips in his own.

Dean froze. He was unprepared for this. It had never crossed his mind that this would ever happen. And for a moment he let it. By the time he’d found himself in reality again, Cas had pulled away.

“You said to ‘go for it’.” Cas explained, seeing the look on Dean’s face. “And you agreed to a second date so I thought it was okay. The idea of non-verbal consent is still very confusing. I’ve never had to deal with it before. Everything’s very clear on that for angel’s. Consent is non-negotiable.”

“A second date?” Dean asked, his brain still trying to catch up.

“This was a first date.” Cas looked at the food on the table. “Dinner and a movie. Like you said. And I like you and you like me, and I’d like to find out if that feeling runs deeper.” He turned back to him. “That’s what you said to do.”

“Yeah but, I meant a girl Cas. Not me. Not someone who’s your friend.”

“But why does it have to be a girl?”

“Well… It doesn’t _have_ to be-“

“Human sexuality is something I find extremely confusing. Father made two biological sexes for breeding purposes only. But in the modern age that’s hardly relevant with what other options there are. I don’t see why human’s can’t just love each other based on their soul, rather than their physical anatomy-“

“Cas.” He cut in, silencing the other. “Just… Just stop talking for a moment.”

Cas looked at Dean, and Dean could hear him holding his breath. How was he going to put this in a way that wasn’t going to hurt Cas’s feelings? “Why would you want to date me?”

Cas looked more confused than he ever had to Dean’s knowledge, before. “Because of all the things you said. The feeling in my stomach, enjoying your company more than anyone else, filling up all the cracks inside each other. That’s you Dean.”

“This is a bad idea Cas.” He shook his head. Regardless of his orientation, Cas was going to get hurt. “I don’t really do relationships. I kiss and fuck and move on.”

“Like you did with Anna?”

Dean felt his wings bristle, as his heart clenched with embarrassment at the realization of those words. Cas knew he’d slept with Anna? When did he find that out? “Well… yes." He confessed. "I don’t want to lose the friendship we already have.” God he sounded like a girl. But this was the best way to get Cas to understand. “I’m no good for you as it is. But if we were to pursue whatever this is.” He motioned to the area around them, as if motioning to the date itself. “I’d just hurt you. I know I would, because I always do. And I don’t want to hurt you Cas. I'd rather we just keep doing what we're doing.”

“Do you not want to date me?”

“No! Of course I do!”

“You do?”

“I-…” Dean stopped himself. Shocked by his own words. Letting them sift through his thoughts once more. “I… I guess I do.” Cas was right. Going over that last conversation in his head, the cracks inside of him, the feeling in his stomach, the way his thoughts always landed on Cas when he let them wander. That’s what he’d said love was, didn’t he? Though he was still skeptical about the situation.

“Then as a newly formed human, can you at least grant me the choice of who I wish to have my heart broken by first?”

If Cas was given different circumstances, he could have been a writer. He always put words into such poetic order.

But he sighed. And, knowing it was a terrible idea, gave in. “Fine. Just for like... Your experience or something. As part of your human lessons. And as long as you remember that I told you this was a bad idea-“

But Cas’s lips silenced him once more.

He froze in hesitation. But the feeling of Cas’s scruff against his lips was something he’d never encountered before, and he found himself drawn to it more than he’d like admit. His heart was racing, and something was tightening inside of him.

Cas put a hand on Dean’s chest, feeling his grace start to expand, seeping light through his fingers.

“Dean.” He said softly, pulling away, warning him of the unruliness of his soul.

“I don’t care.” He said quickly and kissed him again. If he was going to date Castiel, to show him what it was like to be human, then he was going to do it all the way. Angel or not. Even if it was just a lesson in how someone could break your heart.


	20. Finding devotion.

“Dean.” Cas managed to say in the brief second between Dean’s lips finishing a kiss, and starting a new one. “Dean.” He insisted again, but he either didn’t hear, or chose not to. Cas finally pulled away, though Dean’s head pushed forward a bit to follow him, and Cas had to put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. “You need to get a hold of yourself.”

“You started it.” He said opening his eyes finally, and blinking at the brightness between them.

“I know. But if you don’t reel in your grace, it’s going to overpower your soul and injure your vessel.” Cas was still covering the brightest part, his hand pushed against Dean’s chest, light seeping through his fingers, so strong that it made his hand glow a bit pink, lighting the blood from within.

Dean looked down and back up at Cas. “I don’t have a vessel Cas. This is just me.”

“All the more reason to not let your grace take over.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to do that?”

“You have to picture it. Similar to the Impala for your angel radio.”

Now that Cas had pointed it out, Dean could feel a sort of burning, tearing feeling coming from the light, and he winced lightly. Just barely. But enough for Cas to notice.

“Your grace is like a celestial ribbon. You have to wrap it around your soul. Tie it there. And choose when to untie it, to let your power free. Sometimes it will untie itself, but with practice it’ll happen less often.”

Dean took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to focus, and Cas could see he was struggling. He hesitated but put a hand on the side of Dean’s face, his fingers wrapping around the back of his neck, his thumb resting just above his jaw. Humans always seemed to react more positively with skin-to-skin contact. It seemed to calm them. And though he’d never experienced it in such a normal way before, it felt nice. The warmth of Dean’s skin beneath his hand was comforting. A reminder that he was still there. Still real. Still alive.

They both were. And that was enough for now.

“Focus.” Cas offered softly.

“I’m trying my best here, Cas.” But the outburst had nullified any progress he had made, and the light seemed to flare in intensity again. This was getting more dangerous than Cas would have liked. So he put a hand on either side of Dean’s jaw, and pressed their foreheads together.

“It’s just a ribbon, Dean. It’s yours. You control it. Just tie it in place.”

And for some reason, the feeling of being held in place like that, being protected from himself that forcefully, made his breathing slow. Cas’s voice, the low husky thing he’d grown so used to, guided his angelic tendencies, and the light slowly faded until it disappeared altogether, and he opened his eyes.

He looked at Cas for a second before speaking. “A bit close, Cas.”

“Right.” And he let go, sitting up straight, pulling away from him.

“Thanks.”

Cas nodded.

“You’re a good kisser.”

“I researched a lot.”

“You researched kissing?” He asked with a grin.

He nodded again. “There are a lot of films with examples.”

Dean snorted. “Please tell me you’re not watching porn again.”

“Sam suggested against that.”

“Has Sam been helping you with this? This whole thing?”

“Not exactly. I ask him questions sometimes. I don’t think he knew it was about you.”

“Oh he knows.” He said remembering their last conversation. Dean glanced at his watch and sighed. “We should probably get to bed. We can clean this up tomorrow.” He said looking at the half eaten food.

Cas tensed a bit, and Dean looked at him confused.

“You’re not upset with me still.”

“No. I mean I wasn’t really upset _with_ you before I was just sort of… upset… That wing thing was really fucking weird Cas, I needed time to digest it. It wasn’t about you.”

“Okay… I was wondering… if... if we... could sleep... together... again…” The days without Dean by his side at night had started to weigh on him. The nightmares were starting to create bags under his eyes that looked permanent, and he was not eager to repeat them any more than he had to.

“Yeah,” Dean said softly. “Sure.” And offered a small smile. He wouldn’t admit it, but he liked feeling needed. As a big brother or a protector. He was convinced that he wasn’t worth anything in the first place. That he didn’t matter. So each time he saved someone, or someone he loved expressed how they needed him, it kept him going to the next day.

He was starting to find that, that was one of the reasons why he seemed to be so drawn to Cas. The other seemed to really want Dean around. And Dean needed that. Needed him. Needed to fell needed.

Cas took Dean’s hand, threading their fingers, and Dean was struck by the notion that Cas literally had learned how to do everything on a date from stupid romantic comedies, but he let it slide, as he was led out of the room. But when they got to the hall where the bedrooms were, he stopped Cas.

“Let’s sleep in my bed tonight. You’re room’s still creepily bare.”

Cas was caught off guard by the suggestion, but nodded. He’d never slept in Dean’s bed before. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever even spent any sort of prolonged time in there. So when Dean pushed open his door, and closed it behind him, Cas stood awkwardly while Dean pulled out a pair of sweatpants and tossed it to him. He turned his back, to give Cas some privacy to change while he tried to make his bed somewhat manageable.

When he’d moved all the clothes from it, and pulled the blankets back to make a spot for him, he felt a forehead pressed to the base of his neck, and he froze, his wings outstretched a bit, leaving his back bare, where Cas was leaning.

“You alright?”

Cas made a small noise that didn’t seem like a yes or a no. Just an answer that he’d heard him.

“Hey,” Dean turned slowly to face him, his wings brushed Cas’s face as he did, since they were so close and he had to stifle a smirk at how awkward it was with the damn things, when he saw the pure tiredness in Cas’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Cas stared at Dean’s collarbone. For once, not able to make eye contact. “You’re very strong Dean.”

Dean was confused. He opened his mouth to say something, but Cas went on.

“I’m glad I have you with me.” And he let his head, rest on Dean’s chest.

Dean slowly wrapped his arms around him, giving him a reassuring pat on the back. “Had a rough couple of nights huh?”

Cas nodded, and Dean tightened his grip for a moment.

“Well come on then. You seem exhausted. You could probably use some sleep.”

“We’re just going to sleep?” Cas asked still resting against Dean’s chest, who looked down at him confused.

“Well… yeah…. Why? What did you think we were going to do?”

“You always consummate your dates the first night.”

The word ‘consummate’ caught him off guard and he hesitated in responding, so Cas pushed on, looking up at him then.

“It’s not a social norm but it is a Dean Winchester norm.”

“We’re not gonna have sex Cas.”

“You don’t want to?”

“No Cas-“

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Cas.” He said sharply to stop him from continuing his questions. “You’re tired. And beyond that it’s something I’m not exactly versed in. And neither are you.”

“The differences between heterosexual and homosexual intercourse aren’t vast Dean-“

“Please stop. Just stop talking.” Dean pressed his forehead to Cas’s hair and took a deep breath, once again cataloguing the smell. “We’ll worry about it another night. That’s just not something…. I just don’t think that it’s…”

“You’re not ready.” Cas finished his sentence for him.

"Sure." Dean nodded. "Let's go with that."

“Because you’ve never been with a guy.”

“And you’ve never been with anyone." He added defensively.  "So it doesn’t sound like a good idea right now. I don’t want it to turn into something we regret.”

“Alright.” Cas said and pulled away to look at him. He’d never thought Dean would be wary about something sexual before. “I just thought it was part of the ‘Dean Winchester, broken heart’ experience.”

Dean tensed. “I’m not actively _trying_ to break your heart, Cas. I'm just warning you that it's probably going to happen. I never _try_ to hurt people. I’m just bad for them.” He let go of Cas and took a step back. “I’m dangerous to be around, period. Relationships are just another way I fuck up. I’m not good at that. I’m not good for people. I kill things, that's what I'm good at.”

But before he could tailspin into a moment of self-deprecation, Cas’s lips were on his again, startling him, into taking a step back into his dresser, his wings knocking a few things to the ground.

“You’re good for me.” He said pulling away, to see a set of stunned green eyes.

“Cas…”

“Shh.” He answered, tugging Dean’s hand to the bed. “Let’s sleep.”

So he followed, and they slid under the covers. Dean’s wings weren’t in as much pain as they used to be, so he could sleep on his back now. And now that they apparently had shattered whatever personal space they had, since that first kiss, Cas instinctively laid his head on Dean’s chest, his cheek pressed against the anti-possession tattoo.

Dean let out a small breath of a laugh. “What movie did you get this from?” Dean asked as Cas curled in next to him.

“None. I like the feeling of your skin on mine. It’s calming. In a very basic human way. I feel safe.”

Dean didn’t know what to say to that, so instead he wrapped his arm around Cas, and focused on the light, turning it off with the powers he’d been working on, from across the room.

Then slowly he let his wings settle in around them, and realized that Cas was right. It did feel safer this way. Though he couldn’t pin point why.

As the night went on, Cas drifted off to sleep, and Dean closed his eyes spending the time focusing on controlling his angel radio, and capping his grace, while he listened to Cas breathe.

That night Cas’s dreams were of mythical movie nights with all four of them, Kevin included. Of the infinite Tuesday afternoon he’d loved so much in heaven, and of Dean. Once in a while a flash of a nightmare would creep up, but he must have whined or flinched in real time, because Dean’s arm, or wing, would always pull closer, and rub his arm absently, so the anxiety faded, and the nightmares with it.

Cas had never been glad to be human, until that moment, when he realized, half awake, that had he been an angel, he would have never been able to fall asleep in Dean’s embrace. He let himself drift off to sleep again, and said a silent prayer of thanks in his head. A thanks to Dean for protecting him. And a wish that he wouldn’t leave anytime soon.

The prayer resonated through Dean in a way that he’d never experienced before, and he opened his eyes and looked down at the other. He had never been prayed to, so it took a second to realize that Cas hadn’t actually said those words out loud. But when he realized what must have happened, putting the pieces together, he slowly relaxed again and whispered a soft, “That’s what I’m here for.” In reply. Though the idea that Cas was praying to him, even though he was right here, was a bit unnerving. He wasn't sure if he'd ever get used to someone praying to him. He hoped it didn't become a regular occurrence.

Nonetheless he realized it was true. He was here to protect. He was here to keep Cas safe. Human or not. And the realization made the faint light inside of him start again, so he closed his eyes and focused it back down.

Realizing your pure devotion got a stronger reaction from his grace than he would have liked. But he didn’t want to wake Cas with the light. So he tightened the ribbon more. Then just because he damn well could (and he was pretty sure Cas was asleep again anyway) he opened his eyes, and kissed the top of his head. “I’m not going anywhere.” He said in answer to the second prayer. 

And he meant it.


	21. Let's get to work.

“This is a bad idea, Dean.”

“Yeah, I know that.”

“You can’t do this.”

“Don’t tell me what I can’t do.”

“Don’t tell me you’re actually going through with this?”

“Well why not?”

“Because it’s, Cas. And you’re, you.”

Sam and Dean had been talking, well arguing really, very loudly in the main room, while Cas was taking a shower. It was the only time they were sure they ever had at least a few minutes without him around.

“You don’t think I know that?”

“You need to call this off.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Yes. It is.” Sam looked like he was trying to explain basic math to a college student. He just couldn’t get why Dean didn’t understand this. “Why would you even agree to this?”

“Because he asked!”

“He asks for a lot of things!”

“This is different.”

“Why? Because it has more potential to blow-up in our faces?”

“Why are you so against this? He wanted to know what it’s like to be human, this is a very basic thing to learn.”

“Dating him just to teach him a lesson is sick, Dean. It’s unfair to him, and it’s going to cause problems. When this stupid idea collapses in on itself, you’re going to create a rift between you two that’s going to get in the way of what we need to do. Primarily, finding Kevin. You can’t just go around pretending to like someone just to pull the rug out from under them at some point, just because they _asked._ ”

“I’m not _pretending_ anything.”

“You’re dating Cas, Dean.”

“Yes and?”

“And you can’t possibly actually have feelings for him.”

“Says who?”

Sam’s lips parted to retort, but when he actually processed what Dean said, he paused, and looked at him, startled and suspicious. “Do you?”

“…Maybe…” He weighed it in his mind, shifting his head side to side as if weighing the alternative, and corrected himself. “Yes.”

Sam still looked unconvinced. “You’re not gay, Dean.”

“I know that!”

“Then what the hell _is_ this?”

“I DON’T KNOW!” Dean had held himself back from yelling for most of the conversation, but found that he was getting just as confused as Sam looked. He ran a hand through his hair and his wings relaxed against his back, after tensing when he yelled. “I don’t know…”

“Well you need to figure it out before you do something stupid that you’ll both regret.”

“I know.”

A silence fell between them while they both thought, and stared at each other.

Then Sam’s phone rang pulling them out of it. He glanced at it and his eyes widened, looking up at Dean. “Crowley.” He hit the speaker button, as Dean joined him to look down at the phone.

“Hello boys. How’s my favorite moose and flying squirrel?”

Dean sneered, “Cut the crap, Crowley. Where’s Kevin?”

“Storage unit on the edge of some grotesquely small town. I’ll text you the address.”

Sam and Dean looked at each other startled. “Why are you telling us this?” Sam asked cautiously.

“Because we’ve got a common end goal, and I’ve got a whiff of Abaddon.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t have time to talk now moose. Look for my message.” And the voice was gone.

“I can drive.” Dean said decisively. “I’ll go get Cas and we can head out now.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding me?”

“What?”

Sam gestured to his wings. “You need to stay here and figure out how to control those things. You’re not going anywhere until you’ve got them under control. You think you’re going to be able to go anywhere with those? You can barely keep them from stretching when you’re upset. Not to mention the weird glow you’ve got going on whenever you get really emotional.”

“I do _not_ get emotional.”

“Stay here, and have Cas teach you how to use them.”

“So you’re just going to fight a knight of hell on your own? Super idea, Sam.”

“I’m gonna get Kevin and the tablet. I’m going to bring them back here. And then we are going to make a plan to kill Crowley, _and_ Abaddon. You and Cas will both cause more problems than you’d solve at this point.”

“Sam-“

“Dean! Seriously. The wings are a problem. You have to focus on those before we can do anything. So I suggest you work on that while I’m gone.” And he turned to go back to his room, grabbing some things before leaving.

Dean stood alone in the room, his wings to keep him company.

“The clothes Sam and I acquired for me, are very form fitting.” Dean turned to see Cas, fresh out of the shower, towel around his waist, hair still damp. He had a hand on the edge of the towel, having not mastered how to tie it to stay up on it’s own. “Do you suppose I could borrow a pair of your ‘sweat pants’ again?”

Dean smiled barely and let out a one breathed laugh. “Yeah. You know where they are?”

“Yes.” And he was gone again. Dean sighed, sitting on a chair at the table, and grabbed a bottle of whiskey that was sitting there. He looked at it and unscrewed it, taking a sip, but found that it didn’t warm him the same way he was used to. He looked at the bottle and then tilted it back, downing the entire thing.

He set the empty bottle on the table and swore, feeling nothing. He needed to find another vice. Something that would dull the aching in his head and give him a different pain to focus on.

He sat there, lost in his own thoughts, until he felt a presence in the room, and turned to see Cas in one of his shirts and a pair of sweat pants.

“I thought Sam got you your own shirts. Those too small for your liking too?” He smiled.

Cas blushed and looked down at the black under shirt. “It smells like you. I’m not quite sure why that’s comforting, but it is.” He looked back up at him. “I think it’s a human sedative for anxiety. Smells that link to positive memories. It makes me think of you when you’re not around. It tricks my mind into calming, the same way it does when you're near. The smell works, even if you’re not there.” He tugged on the edge of the shirt absently. “You let me borrow them before I didn’t know if the invitation was conditional on when I acquired my own clothes.”

“No, it’s fine.” Dean said, his ears turning a bit pink with blushing from the idea that just the thought of Dean could calm Cas in his now human induced anxiety. He couldn’t possibly be that calming of a person. He was loud and forward at best. Frustrating and violent at worse. But he didn’t question it.

“Sam’s got a lead on Kevin.” Dean went on. “Which means we’re closer to Crowley and Abaddon.” Cas’s eyes seemed to darken at the mention of Crowley, and Dean realized he’d never seen such hatred in his eyes before.

“To killing them.”

“Yes.” He’d never seen Cas so set on revenge before. But if Meg’s death at the hands of Crowley was what was fueling Cas to keep going, then Dean wasn’t going to argue with his motives. Not now at least. Not when it was working in their favor. “So that means I gotta get these feathered fuckers under control asap. You think we could try this wing thing again?”

Cas nodded. “First flying. Then you’ll be able to control them through other perceptive dimensions.”

“Good. Cause we’re not stopping today until I can make them disappear.”

“Dean, I’m not sure you have the angelic strength to work at it all day.”

“Well we’re going to find out."

"Gaining control of your powers could take weeks."

"Well, we don't have that time."

"... Alright." Cas relented. Dean had a point.

"First I’m going to teach you how to make a decent breakfast though, because you’ve been living off of toast for far too long.”

“It’s simple to make.”

“Yeah well so is an omelet, and you’re still skinnier than you ought to be, and it’s making me uncomfortable.”

Cas nodded, and blushed again, though he wasn’t sure why.

Dean started walking to the kitchen past him, and grabbed the edge of Cas’s shirt, tugging him along. “Come on then.”

Cas let him lead him that way for a few steps before finding it awkward and instead slid his hand into Dean’s to go the rest of the way to the kitchen.

Dean took his hand, but didn’t draw attention to it.

“My goal is to make it so you don’t need me to help you with any human stuff by the end of the week. The best measure of a teacher is when their student no longer needs them.” He’d heard that in a movie once, but was unsure which one.

“I don’t believe I’ll ever stop needing you, Dean.”

Dean’s ears turned red again as they entered the kitchen, and he purposefully didn't look at Cas. “Yeah well, that makes two of us.” He muttered and squeezed Cas’s hand before letting go to start going through the fridge.

Cas’s mind went back to his nightmares then, and he heard Dean’s voice echo through his thoughts, making him shudder.

_I need you._


	22. Learning new things.

“You’ve been practicing.” Cas’s eyes followed Dean’s wings as he curled them in and flexed them back out to their full extension.

“Yeah.”

“It shows.”

Dean beamed.

“We’ll start with the mechanics. Then move to trial and error.”

“Alright.” Dean stretched his shoulders back with a crack and Cas flinched. He hated that sound. Knuckles and joints popping from stiffness. It was silly. But it bothered him.

“Angel wings move more like a wave than a piece of paper.”

“Okay.” Dean said sounding uncertain.

“You have to roll the joints forward to catch the wind, pushing as much air between you and the ground as possible to keep yourself afloat.”

“Like treading water.”

“I suppose…” Cas had obviously never gone swimming.

“Never mind. Keep going.”

“Start off slowly, one joint at a time from the bottom up. Your wings are similar to large feathered hands.” Cas put his hand in front of Dean’s chest and pressed his smallest finger to him, then his ring finger, then middle. “Focus on one at a time. Then when you push the top most bone forward,” He touched the top of Dean’s wing with his free hand, while he pressed his index finger to his chest. “Bring the smallest joint at the bottom back,” He raised his pinky. “And start over again.” He did the whole sequence again a bit faster. Slowly drumming his fingers against Dean’s chest. “Make sense?” He looked up at him, noticing Dean was staring at him intently. Seeming lost in his own thoughts. “…Dean?”

“Yeah.” He said quickly shaking himself out of whatever trance he’d fallen into. Listening to Cas’s deep voice, feeling the pads of his fingers against his bare chest, his hand against his wing, were all very soothing. And a bit more intimate than he was used to. He had to keep reminding himself that Cas didn’t really understand personal space. But now that they were… whatever this was, Dean supposed personal space was a moot point.

“Do it.” Cas said taking a step back from him, to give Dean space with his wings.

Dean started slowly. One bone at a time, like Cas had showed him. But slowly, when he started getting the hang of the mechanics of it, started to go a bit faster. Once he’d gotten used to it, the act felt almost normal. Like opening and closing his hand. He watched his wings and as he put more effort into them, he ended up with one swoop of his wings that unsteadied him a bit, and he had to take a step back so he wouldn’t fall off his heels. 

“Whoa.” He stopped the momentum, to regain his balance.

Cas smiled, fixing his bangs that had gotten blown in his face. “Very good. Now we’ll work on getting off the ground.”

Dean’s feathers ruffled in excitement, but his chest tensed in anxiety. He nodded.

“Tilt your wings forward so your momentum is going against the ground.”

He did.

“And start off with a few slow movements, then build up to a large push to get off the ground. The physics works the same as when you’re pushing something across the floor. It takes more effort to get it started, than it does to keep it moving.”

He nodded again. But was starting to get anxious, and after a few small motions, let one large flap loose, and pushed himself so hard, that he went almost fifteen feet up. Startled by the sudden change in where he was in relation to the ground, Dean forgot to keep going and stopped moving his wings.

“No, Dean keep-!”

But he was already on the ground. Cas winced as he hit the concrete.

Dean groaned and rubbed his arm where he’d landed most of his body weight.

“Without control of your grace, if your wings stop moving you’ll fall.”

“Yeah, I got that.” He stood up and stretched his neck side to side.

Dean started the movement again, and Cas could see he was starting to let his emotions guide his physical movements, before he even got off the ground.

“Wait.” He said quickly and took a step forward. He took Deans hand, like you would hold someone’s hand to shake. “I’ll anchor you.”

Dean hesitated, but nodded. And after a few small rushes of wind, ruffling Cas’s hair, Dean was in the air again.

“Keep going.” Cas reminded him. And Dean nodded. Their arms were outstretched, and each time Dean flapped his wings, Cas’s heals came off the ground a bit from the force of it. His height wavered, from how far off the ground he was, but he was staying airborne, which was more than Cas expected. It seemed Dean Winchester was stronger than he thought. It was like he was meant to be an angel. Michael flashed through his mind, and his grip wavered for a moment, before he found himself. “Now see if you can slow your speed down enough to land. Slowly.” He reminded.

And Dean tried, but the second that his wing speed slowed at all he had lost all the power to keep him up and fell on top of Cas, who tried to catch him, but ended up on his back, with Dean on top of him.

“Fuck. I’m sorry, Cas. Are you okay?”

Cas cringed and rubbed the back of his head, which had hit the concrete. “I’ve been worse.” He said opening his eyes, catching Dean’s.

“Let me get off you at least.”

But Cas grabbed his arm to stop him. Dean looked at him confused and startled. The way his wings were outstretched above them both, as he looked down at Cas, his knees on either side of him, made a sort of dappling of light across Cas’s face.

“Can I kiss you?” Cas asked.

Dean blushed from the awkwardness of the question. “Cas, if we’re going to actually date like normal people, then you don’t have to ask. I know you have this whole ‘angel consent’ thing, but if you go for it and I don’t want you to, I’ll let you know.”

And as soon as the last word was out of his mouth, Cas’s hand was on the back of Dean’s head, pulling him down, so their lips met.

Dean didn’t know if he’d ever get used to the bluntness of Cas. But he knew he didn’t want it to change. Once he’d gotten over the shock of the moment, he fell into it easily. He was so used to the softness of female lips, that the strength behind how Cas kissed him made his heart race. It was exhilarating. The scratch of his just barely shaved face. The protectiveness of his hand against his neck, like Cas was afraid Dean would disappear if he let go. The desperation for more, as each kiss found it’s end and Cas leaned up to take Dean’s lips again. As if he’d been starved of the oxygen in Dean’s lungs. A drug addict having found his new addiction.

And Dean was starting to realize why this was different. Why this felt better than what he’d ever done before. Because this feeling wasn’t seated in a desire or a want. He didn’t like being around Cas because he thought he was attractive or good in bed. He didn’t just want to see what Cas was like, to test him out, to have sex and then drop him.

He needed him.

He’d never kissed someone and felt it spread through his veins like an addiction before. He found that he didn’t want to stop. He didn’t even feel the need to move to the next level. He could stay like this, on the concrete floor, wings sifting light onto Cas’s face, kissing him, forever.

The cracks inside of him were filling up.

He slid a hand into Cas’s hair, keeping one hand on the ground to steady himself, hovering over Cas, and curled his fingers through the dark strands, until he was tugging lightly.

And, dear god, the sound that Cas made was enough to send him reeling. A small, almost whine, that the ex-angel wasn’t even aware he made. A sound that came from the base of his throat, that Dean stole from his lips.

Dean kissed him harder, trying to get him to make that sound again.

Cas had never felt such a powerful need before. He’d always been driven by orders and divine power. He’d never been commanded by just the feeling in his chest and the instincts of his human emotion. But he found that this felt better than anything he’d done, angel or human, in his life. He couldn’t explain it. Kissing seemed so trivial. So useless. But now that he was experiencing it first hand, it felt so _right_. Even more so then when he'd kissed Meg. And a part of him felt guilty about that. But Dean tugged on his hair again and the thought quickly faded. So he let his humanity take control, and as one hand stayed on the back of Dean’s neck, holding him close, his other searched for something to hold on to as well. He ran his hand up Dean’s chest, down his arm, and finally threaded his fingers through his feathers, combing through them feeling the impossibility of how smooth they were, and Dean gasped.

Cas froze, and so did Dean. Their lips still touched, but Dean’s breathing had gone shallow. Cas started to pull his fingers out of Dean’s feathers, afraid he’d taken a step too far, but Dean reached across his chest, over his shoulder, and grabbed Cas’s arm, shaking his head. “Don’t stop.” He whispered.

Cas hesitated, but slid his fingers through the feathers once more, and Dean let out a shaky breath between their lips.

It wasn’t as powerful as it had been with the oil. But Dean was still seeing stars. He dropped his head, next to Cas’s his hot breath, against his neck. After a moment of catching his breath, he pressed his lips to the skin there, and Cas’s eyes closed. This was something he’d seen in the many movies he’d watched over the past week. The idea of lips and teeth caressing and pulling at the skin on the side of someone’s neck. He hadn’t understood it before, but now he realized the allure. There must have been some sort of endorphin switch connected to the sensitive area, because he felt a wash of warmth run through his skin at the touch. There was something that seemed to excite him about Dean being so close to an area of his body that was so vulnerable. It was as if Dean was reminding him he was still alive. Reminding him that the blood still ran through his veins, and that even though he’d literally ‘risked his neck’ time and again, he was still here. He was here, and he was with Dean, and he was human.

Another small noise passed from Cas’s lips, and Dean instinctively nipped at the spot again, to try and repeat the conditions. Cas hummed a breath of longing and tightened his grip in Dean’s feathers, causing the other to seethe in a breath of air again. Dean moved his head to kiss Cas, his moans, lost between their tongues, as Cas manhandled his wings. His hand slid down to the hem of Cas’s shirt, and started to pull it up, getting it just past his naval, when his phone rang.

They both froze, and Cas pulled back, separating their lips. Dean looked down at him, suddenly struck by how embarrassing this moment was. He had Cas pinned to the floor of a garage.

What was he thinking?

“God damn it.” He groaned, pushing himself up and pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Of course it was Sam.

Who else would it be? No one else had such a sixth sense for cock blocking.

“What?” He said a bit tersely.

“We gotta stitch up Kevin when I get back. I'm about thirty minutes out. Have the kit ready when I get there?”

“What!?” Cas looked at Dean concerned, as he yelled. “What are you talking about? What happened?”

“I’ll tell you when I get there.”

“Can you at least give me a summary?”

Sam paused before answering. “I hope you've got those things under control. We need to find Abaddon. We’re running out of time.” And hung up.

Cas looked at Dean quizzically. “Come on.” He said standing up and putting an arm out to help Cas, shoving his phone back in his pocket. They could get a lot done in thirty minutes if they focused. “Let’s keep working.”


	23. Welcome to the family.

By the time Sam and Kevin had gotten back to the bunker, Dean could maneuver twenty feet in the air successfully for a few minutes, before remembering how much he despised flying and falling to the ground. But beyond that he had started being able to hide his wings. Albeit only for short points in time, but he’d gotten up to five minutes, and that was longer than he or Cas were expecting.

“Abaddon.” Sam explained when he brought a half lucid Kevin down the stairs, with Dean’s help. "He got knocked out, but once we stitch up the gash on his arm he should be fine. Probably best not to send him to the hospital unless we have to, since there’s a national search going on for him."

“What?”

“High profile college genius disappears overnight? And now his family's gone? It’s the ‘pulling heart strings’ story of every news channel right now.”

“But that happened ages ago.”

“Yeah, but his mom disappeared just last week. Resurfaced the whole story. Did you get the kit or not?”

“Cas.” He turned to see Cas holding the fish and tackle box, silently, seeming to just be waiting for instructions. He set it on the table next to them. “Thanks.” Dean said with a nod.

Sam held Kevin up in the chair as Dean started cleaning the wound. Sam’s eyes went to his wings and Dean caught the look out of the corner of his eye. “Working on it.” He answered gruffly, though Sam didn’t voice a question. “Now what’s this lead with Abaddon?”

“She was using the storage unit to house a lot of her start up. She’s got a lot of pre-made potions and spells. It’s like a supernatural, weapons of mass destruction warehouse.”

“Okay, so how does that help us?”

“Kevin got himself caught trying to get his mom out. They were trying to get information out of her, about us. Crowley had given her to Abaddon at some point for a trade that went bad, or something. I'm not exactly sure.”

Kevin, still half conscious, seethed a bit when Dean poured the alcohol over the wound.

Sam paused before continuing.

Dean looked at him confused but put his attention back on Kevin’s arm, sliding the needle through the skin, slowly at first to test how much Kevin could actually feel. When the boy only let out a small whine, and flinched, but otherwise kept his eyes closed, and his weight on Sam, Dean continued, making quick work.

“He watched a demon kill his mom.”

Dean froze for half a second, before the needle and thread moved once more. He didn’t know what to say to that. They’d all had similar experiences. But Kevin wasn’t hard to that sort of thing yet. He didn’t want to be a hunter either. He had always said how he wanted to finish this, and get out, and go back to his life. But now, what life did he have to go back to?

“He went after it, and got thrown across the room. His head hit the concrete so hard I thought he was gone.” Sam checked the bump on the back of his head, and Kevin started to filter back into consciousness, seething at the pressure on the head wound.

“I’m fine.” He muttered in half a slur.

Dean finished the last stitch, and tied it off. Cas stood amazed, watching over Dean’s shoulders from the side. His wings brushed against the other every once in a while, but it felt less like an accident the more it happened. It felt as if Dean was trying to get some form of physical contact without outwardly showing it. Cas pressed the back of his hand to the feathers, gently, and the wings stopped fidgeting, content with Cas's hand resting there.

“You’re very good at that.” Cas said simply, looking at Kevin's arm.

“Yeah well I’ve had a lot of practice.” He said wiping the blood off his hands before cleaning the edges of the wound on Kevin’s arm.

The sentence looked like it bothered Cas, but neither of them drew attention to it. Instead Dean focused back on Sam.

“So what happened? Where’s the tablet?”

But before he could answer, Kevin interrupted, apparently waking up more, now that the pain of being stitched up had jolted him a bit. “I dropped it.”

“You _dropped_ it?”

“Yes, Dean.” He said sharply looking at him. “They had my mom in front of me, and they shoved a knife through her back that came out her chest, and I panicked, and I dropped it.” He was seething, albeit still swaying a bit with the weight of his own head.

Sam kept his hands on Kevin’s shoulders, standing behind him in the chair, trying to give him some comfort. Trying to calm him down.

“…Kev-“

“Don’t. Dean.” He shook his head quickly. “Don’t tell me you’re sorry. Just don’t.”

“Kevin I-“

“I’m so sick of you two.” He said looking down at his arm. “I’m sick of living here. I’m sick of doing this. I had a life you know.” He stood up then, unable to keep himself from moving. Sam instinctively put an arm out to steady him, which Kevin pushed away, using the table instead. He pushed through the head rush, and continued to yell. “I had a life before you two! I had a family and a girlfriend and a future!”

“We know Kevin, and we’re sorry-“

“What did I say about ‘sorry’ Sam?” He was almost growling his words. “Sorry is not gonna cut it anymore." He shook his head, glancing at the bottle of whiskey on the table, that always seemed to be there. No matter what time of day it was, there was always a half drunk bottle of whiskey on the stupid table. "Now I’m just like you aren’t I? Nothing to lose, no one to go back to. It’s fucking perfect. Welcome to the GOD DAMN FAMILY KEVIN. Grab a bottle of whiskey and a flannel!” He grabbed the bottle, and waved it a bit, but had to steady himself on the side of the table again.

“Kevin…” Dean reached a hand out to take the bottle from him, but the younger man just shot a look, that silenced him.

“I’m going to bed.” He said tersely. “And if I hear one more 'sorry' I’m going to rip those stupid things off your back with my bare hands I swear to god.” And stormed out.

Dean and Sam looked at each other in that way that they always seemed to when things were going to shit. That look that said ‘okay, now what?’

“Sam, do you have any more leads on Abaddon or Crowley?” Cas said, breaking the silence, wanting to diffuse the tension in the room quickly. 

They had both forgotten he was even there. “Oh. Yeah. Right.” Sam pulled out a brochure from the storage company and handed it to his brother. “Demons run the company. From the top down. There’s a big warehouse and office building in the middle of Oregon that seems to be where they operate.”

“That’s not too bad. A day’s drive.”

“If we don’t sleep.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed Sam. But I don’t _anything_ anymore.”

“What?” Sam’s brows knitted together. 

“He has no need for human necessities like eating and sleeping. By what I can tell,” Cas started explaining, “Dean is close to seventy five percent angel, whatever that means. His grace hasn’t gained its full power yet, and he hasn’t discovered his celestial form. But other than that…” Cas looked at him, and Dean realized for the first time that he was worried.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like I said Dean. This has never happened before. I’m not sure what’s going to come of it. You could be in grave danger.”

“I just gotta get a hold on the glowing angel crap right? I’ll be fine.”

“Hopefully.”

“Well then,” Dean turned to Sam. “Why don’t you load up the car, and Cas and I will keep working on my wings.”

"All four of us going?" Sam asked sounding unsure.

"What do you think?" Dean said flatly.

“We should probably leave Kevin here.”

“Probably.” The sarcasm rolled off his tongue in a way that Dean hadn't done in a long time. 

Sam rolled his eyes and went off to grab what they would need for a trip of who knows how long. “We’re stopping at a hotel when we get half way. You may not need sleep but I do. And so does Cas!” He called the last bit from down the hall.

Dean turned to Cas and a thought dawned on him. A thought that he regretted not having sooner. “Do you know how to fight without your grace?”

“Um…” He thought about it for a moment before deciding on his answer. “No.”

Dean ran his hand over his face. “You should probably stay here too.”

“No.”

“Cas-“

“No Dean. You need me to keep teaching you. Every second we can spend working on your grace is a second that could save your life. Beyond that, I still am not adapted to humanity.  _I_ need you. And I deserve to go. I deserve the chance to fight. To try and do some good after all the bad I've done.”

"You're not a bad person, Cas."

"I am not  _evil_. I don't have bad intentions. But I am not a very good  _person_ Dean. I want the chance to try and redeem some of what I've done."

The bluntness of the words hit him harder than he thought they would. His thoughts were knocked off balance, and he couldn’t conceptualize an argument just then. “Alright… Okay… Okay here’s what we’re gonna do. You still got your angel blade?”

“Yes.”

“And you can still handle it alright? You’re still good with it?”

“I believe so. I haven't tried without my angelic strength or speed.”

“Alright well, I don’t have time to teach you how to use something new so just stick to that for now. I’ll try to teach you some basic hand-held weaponry techniques, if we have the chance. If we get in to any trouble you stay out of it ya hear? You're literally the most vulnerable person on our team right now and the last thing I need is for you to get ganked.”

Cas disagreed. But he nodded, because he knew it's what would get Dean to let him go without much more of a fight.

“Let’s keep working on these damn things until Sam loads the car, huh?” His thumb pointed back at his wings, and Cas nodded again.

"We'll get more done if you open your eyes while in flight. I don't understand why you close them in the first place."

"I don't like flying, Cas."

"Now that you're an angel that's a moot point. And completely ridiculous."

"This coming from the man that dropped a glass when he saw a dead fish on the counter."

"That's not a phobia. It was staring at me. I was startled."

"Yeah well a lot of things stare at you."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You don't notice?"

"I suppose I'm usually looking at you, so they don't really reach my perception."

Dean gave him a confused smile. How could he be so ridiculously oblivious _all_ the time? "Are you flirting with me?"

"No. Not intentionally... Should I be?"

"That was just... Very sweet." He said with a small shrug.

Cas thought for a moment, and glanced at the ground before looking back up at Dean. "Is this one of those times where I could kiss you without asking? If I wanted?"

"I think that's technically still asking." He smiled. "But yes."

So he did.

And it had been a long time since Dean had, had trouble  _actually_ kissing someone because he was grinning so much. It was nice. It was cute and it was filled with small laughter and it was perfect.

And for some reason, it made Dean inherently sad. But he couldn't pinpoint why.


	24. Fairytales and Prophecies.

The car ride was odd. Dean wanted more than anything to drive just so that he could take the time to let the highway cruise by and think. He wanted to be able to sink into that hypnotic state of rushing trees and dashed yellow lines, because right now his head was still spinning. But because of his wings, he was banished to the backseat by himself, until he could put them into another dimension altogether, successfully, instead of accidentally smacking Sam in the face with them while he drove. And he would have spent the car ride practicing but Cas made him promise not to.

“In such a small vehicle, while in motion, if they snap back into our reality there’s a large chance they could manifest both inside _and_ outside the car.”

Dean wanted to ignore the warning and practice anyway, but the idea of his molecules melded with the car in that way sounded like it was probably painful, and not something that he wanted to experience, if he could avoid it.

So he sulked.

While Sam drove and Cas kept talking. Dear god did he keep talking. Didn’t that man every shut up?

Dean was laying in the seat trying to focus on extending his grace to his fingertips and back, creating a slight glow in the back seat as he did, when he finally couldn’t take it anymore.

“Cas, could you just… Stop talking? For like… Ten minutes.”

Sam looked in the rear view mirror at Dean, his brow furrowed. Cas’s eyes were wide for a moment, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“Dude, the only sound for the last hour’s been the radio.”

“What?” He pushed himself up on his elbows to look at them.

“Dean, I think you’re tapping into my thoughts.” Cas said turning to him. And all of a sudden with the eye contact as well. Dean’s mind was flooded with Cas’s voice, and he had to close his eyes to stop the instant headache from coming with all the noise. “Sorry!” Cas said quickly, and the words and images slowed a bit for Dean, as Cas focused on trying to clear his mind as much as he could.

“How am I in your head without knowing it?”

“At some point you must have consciously been attempting to figure out what I was thinking, and then the psychic link manifested from that desire. Just focus on your own thoughts that don’t have to do with me for a moment and it should dissolve.”

Sam snorted, but Dean ignored him and did as Cas said, and his mind once again, became his own.

“We’re here.” Sam said pulling in front of the motel and turning the car off.

Dean went to get out of the car but Sam grabbed his arm. “Dude,” He said glancing at the wings, and Dean grumbled, crossing his arms and sitting back in the seat again.

“I’ll get the keys. You two stay here.”

Cas watched Sam walk into the main office and Dean stared angrily at the seat in front of him. When Cas turned to look at him he looked at the wings and sighed. Anyone else wouldn’t have noticed, but even if he wasn’t technically an angel anymore, Cas could still read the body language of feathers. And he could tell Dean was lost and frustrated and pissed.

“You’re making fast progress.”

“Yeah well not fast enough. Are you sure there’s no way to get rid of these things?”

“Not that I know of. Not without killing you.”

“Yeah well death might be a welcome alternative at this point.”

“You don’t mean that, Dean.”

“Of course I don’t mean it, Cas! God. Don’t take everything so literal.” He huffed and looked out the window.

Cas looked like Dean had slapped him and he wasn’t sure what to do next. But Dean kept his eyes out the window, not noticing. Or choosing not to at least.

“Did you despise my wings this much when I had them?”

“I never saw your wings.”

He nodded. “Right.” And slowly turned back around in the seat, to pick at the jeans he was wearing.

After a lengthy, uncomfortable silence, Dean took a deep breath, letting it out with a sigh and leaned forward, over the center console, to put a hand on Cas’s, to stop his fidgeting.

“I don’t blame you for this.”

“But it’s my fault.”

“There’s no way you could have known, giving me part of your grace all those years ago, that this would happen.”

“… Well…”

“… You didn’t know this would happen. Did you?”

He didn’t answer.

“Cas?” He asked more forcefully. More suspiciously.

“It’s just a story. A fairytale. No angels took stock in it, it was just another poorly interpreted bible verse.”

“What are you talking about?” The anger and slight amount of panic, hitched in Dean’s voice.

“I didn’t think it was true. I didn’t think it was going to happen. And I didn't know you that well at the time, I was just charged with your protection at any cost, so it didn't seem relevant.”

“Cas. What _is_ it?”

Cas’s eyes stayed on his hands, afraid to look at him. Ashamed for not bringing it up sooner. He had just hoped it was a lot of coincidences. But he should have known better. Nothing was ever a coincidence. Not with the Winchesters.

He took a breath, and recited words like one recited the pledge of allegiance. With no emotion, or value. “ ‘When there is no return, When angels seek the grace of man, When our heavenly father is silent, The last shall lead you to Eden, then fall. For in the resurrection they… are as the angels of God in heaven.’ “

Dean watched him carefully. Trying to digest what he was saying. It made him feel nauseous. He didn’t understand it but the pieces that he could unpack didn’t sound good.

“Cas, what does that mean?”

“No one has ever spent time to interpret it. It was never fully published in any works. It’s the equivalent of a note on the corner of a page in Metatron’s depiction of the apocalypse and-“

“Cas.” He cut him off and turned his head to face him. “What does it mean?”

“I think… I think it’s about you.”

“Yeah I got that. What does it _mean_?”

“It sounds like… I mean it could be interpreted in many ways if you-“

“CAS!”

He jumped a bit, startled, and looked back down at his lap, before continuing softly. “You’ll lead the angels back to heaven. And then fall.”

“As in die.”

“… It’s likely.”

Dean leaned back again and put his face in his hands, letting out a frustrated groan.

“I’m sorry…”

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner!?”

“Because it’s a fairytale Dean. It was never decided to be an actual prophecy so I took no stock in it. Because it wouldn’t have made a difference.”

“Holy shit.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Holy _shit_.” He repeated. “Oh my god we’re so fucked. I can’t believe this is happening. Why does this always happen?”

He jumped at a knock on the window, and turned to see Sam. He rolled it down, and before he could say anything Sam tossed him two keys. “You're in 103. I’m 104.”

“What?”

“You two need to figure out whatever _this_ is.” He said motioning between them. “And I’m not gonna be around for that conversation so you can do that on your own. Plus you need to work on your angel crap. Seriously Dean. You gotta be able to hide those things by tomorrow or we’re not gonna be able to do much of anything.”

“Okay, I know but-“

“Have fun.” He said banging the roof of the Impala twice, and popped the trunk, to grab his bag.

“Sam listen-“

“For once. I'm fine. And you’re the one that has issues to sort out. So be glad that Cas is here to help, and take advantage of it.” Sam shouldered the bag and went off towards his room.

“Wait Sam would you just-!... Gah!” Dean pulled his head back into the car and slammed his hands against the back of the drivers seat with another yell.

Because he didn't know what else to do, and he was curious, Cas cautiously leaned into the back and took the card keys from the back seat to look at them.

“Dean?”

“What _now_?”

“I’ve never slept in a motel before.”

Dean looked at him, not in the mood for this right now. “So?”

Cas shrugged and looked at the cards apprehensively. And once again, Dean was reminded that he wasn’t the only one struggling.

“Come on.” He sighed and looked around the parking lot before stepping out. It was dark and no one was wandering in the night. As long as he kept his wings pressed against him and they moved quickly, they could get to the room without any problems.

And he found that when they had gotten to the room and went to unlock the door, he had his bags in one hand, and Cas’s fingers threaded through the other. He hadn’t even remembered taking his hand.

And he couldn’t decide if that made him unsettled, or content.


	25. Defining yourself.

“There’s only one bed.” Dean sighed and dropped his bag on a chair once he stepped into the motel room.

“Were you expecting two?” Cas asked looking at him curiously.

“Yes… But I mean…” Sam had booked the room after all. The little shit.

“Don’t people who are engaged in a romantic situation, usually share a bed?”

“Yes, but again Cas, that usually implies sex.”

“But we’re not having sex.”

“I know that.”

“So why are you bothered?”

“Because Sam booked the room.”

“And so you think, that implies that he thinks we’re having sex?”

“Yes.” Dean sounded annoyed with where the conversation was going and instead went to put his toothbrush and shampoo away. Though he really didn't need them anymore so he didn't know why he was bothering with them in the first place.

“He _does_ know you don’t sleep anymore. He most likely assumed you were going to spend the night researching, or something similar.”

“Yeah well, it would have been nice for him to ask.” He called from the bathroom.

“Do you _want_ your own bed?”

“What would I do with it?”

“Then I’m confused as to why you’re upset.”

Dean came out, and again, sighed. “That’s not the point Cas.”

“Then what is the point?” Cas just seemed endearingly lost.

“Never mind.”

“No, Dean. I’d really appreciate it if you’d actually tell me what you’re thinking for once.”

“It’s not that important.”

“It’s important to me.”

“Okay! Fine!” He turned to face him, his voice rising, when he didn’t mean it to. “You wanna know what I’m thinking? You really want to know?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.” Cas seemed startled at Dean's sudden anger.

“I’m thinking this is a bad idea. And I don’t know why we’re doing it in the first place. I’m not gay. And I don’t know why I agreed to this. And it’s not gonna work out anyway. So.” He turned back to his bag and started pulling out clothes for the next day, throwing them angrily onto the dresser next to him.

“I’m confused.”

Dean groaned. Of course Cas was confused. He was always confused.

“Look, Cas. I just don’t think right now is the best time for us to be doing… this” He motioned between them.

“Why not?”

“Because we’ve got a lot of shit to focus on right now. Abaddon’s on our ass, Crowley’s MIA and it’s just probably not the best time for _romance_ okay?”

“But these kind of things are always happening in your life.”

“Yeah well, maybe that’s a sign that we shouldn’t do this.”

“Are you…?” He searched for the word. For what was happening. He went through his mind to catalogue all the TV shows and movies he’d watched to try and find the right way to phrase this and eventually came up with, unknowingly, the most cliche thing he could have said. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“Yeah. I guess I am.”

Cas was lost. “Aren’t you supposed to ‘give it a chance’? We’ve only been on one date. We just started dating. I’ve only kissed you three times.”

Was he keeping track? Of course he was. It was stupid to assume he wouldn't be. “All the more reason to stop now before it gets out of hand."

“But…” Cas’s words faded out and Dean turned to him, exasperated.

“But _what_ Cas?”

He looked up at him. Blue eyes meeting green, and seemed astonishingly human in that moment. “I don’t want to.”

Dean felt something in his chest tighten, and his jaw tensed. “Cas I’m bad news. And right now with Abaddon and these wings,” He gestured to them and they moved a bit, as if they’d heard themselves being mentioned. “It’s just not a good idea.”

Cas looked at him and his eyes seemed lost. Dean found that he had to look away.

“So what does that mean?”

“It means we keep doing what we’re doing, but no kissing. No handholding, no sleeping together. Just go back to how things were. Okay?”

Cas nodded, though it seemed like it took all of his will to get himself to move his chin that much. “What do I do now?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t feel well.”

“What, like you’re sick?”

“I think your rejection, emotionally compromised my physical condition at this moment.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean was getting more annoyed and frustrated. He couldn’t see that he was more upset with himself than anything. So he was taking it out on Cas.

Cas’s eyes darted back to Dean’s and held his gaze. “My chest hurts.”

“Now don’t be so dramati-“

“My chest hurts. And my adrenaline is pumping and I feel really hot. There’s this kind of fluttering in my stomach, and my eyes burn.” Cas’s eyes stayed on Dean but he looked suspicious and confused more than hurt. “Is this how it’s suppose to feel? Is this what you meant before? About heart break?”

Dean immediately, went into defense mode. All his walls went up and he stiffened. “I can’t deal with this right now. Take a shower and you’ll feel better. I’m gonna go on a walk.” He grabbed his keys and wallet, before going for the door. “Sam’s next door if you need something.” And he left.

***

An hour later, (after realizing that he still had wings and couldn’t rightfully walk around looking like a freak) Dean was laying in the drivers seat of the Impala, the seat all the way back, with the radio drowning out his racing thoughts.

It took three times, before Dean noticed Sam knocking on the window (pounding really). He turned the music down and sat up to open the door.

“What do you wa-?“

Before Dean could finish his sentence Sam had smacked the side of his head so hard, that his head jerked a bit to the side.

“Dude! _What the hell!?_ ”

“You’re an idiot.”

“What did I do now?”

“You broke Cas!”

“I did not _break_ him. You keep saying that. You keep treating him like he’s some glass collectable. The man can take care of himself.”

“You want to tell him that? Because he’s been staring at a wall in my room for the last twenty minutes, trying to decipher what he did wrong.” Sam went around the side of the car to sit in the passenger seat and slammed the door closed. Dean shut his door as well, rubbing the side of his head.

“He didn’t do anything wrong-“

“ _I_ know that.”

“Why do you say it like that? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you decided that, even though for once you actually cared about someone, because it wasn’t your perfect Norman Rockwell hook-up, you would run from it.”

“I’ve cared about people before. -”

“I get that you’re not gay.”

“-I cared about Lisa.”

“Dean would you just shut up and listen to me!”

Dean’s jaw snapped shut with a click as his teeth clenched together.

“If Cas were a girl would this be different?”

“I don’t really think that, that’s-“

“Dean. Just answer the question. Would you be freaking out less?”

He paused and thought about it. “Maybe. I mean probably.”

“Okay, so here’s something to think about. He’s an angel.”

“ _Was_ an angel.”

“Just like you _were_ human?”

“What are you getting at?”

“Are you any less human than you were before?”

“No!”

“Okay well then, I’m going to assume that Cas probably feels the same way.”

“What does that even mean?” Dean was getting tired of Sam’s weird philosophical run around.

“It means that there’s the physical stuff of being human, or an angel. Sure. But how you identify yourself is more important than that. Cas has always been an angel. And even without his grace or his wings, he probably still thinks of himself as one.”

“Okay, so?”

“So in the context of angels, do you really think they have gender? Or sexuality?”

“What does this have to do with anything Sam?”

“I’m just saying that I don’t think Cas understands where your coming from because he probably just assumes you’ve always slept with girls because it was what you preferred at the moment, not because you were straight.”

“I don’t know what I am man. Don't label me like some god damn soup can.” He muttered with a shrug, turning from him.

“Well then what’s the problem?”

“It’s that he looks at me!”

“… He _looks_ at you?” Sam repeated, making sure he heard him right.

“He just looks right through me with those stupid blue eyes and I can’t focus on anything. And this angel crap inside of me is getting harder to handle and I don’t need to feel like my stomach's gonna turn inside out, every time he takes my goddamn hand, on top of all of this.”

“So you broke up with him… Because you like him?”

“That's not what I meant!"

"Then what did you mean?"

"He makes me feel…” He made a motion with his hands to himself, in a way that didn’t really finish the sentence.

“He makes you feel _what_?”

“He just makes me feel.” The words came out fast, and harsh, and his cheeks tinted with embarrassment from the statement.

“He makes you ‘ _feel_ ’?” Sam clarified again.

“I’m just not in a position where dealing with new emotional shit, is probably the best idea right now.”

“Because of the wings?”

“Because of _everything_ , Sam! Because of Abaddon, Crowley, Kevin, and the world fucking ending.”

“The world ends like every year, Dean! That’s a shitty reason to run away from something.”

“I’m not running away from anything!”

“Is that why Cas is in _my_ room and you’re hiding in the car listening to Journey?”

“Journey’s awesome.” He mumbled.

“Yeah and it’s also your ‘break-up’ band.”

“What?”

Sam nodded to the stereo. “You listen to this album on the anniversary of when we wiped Lisa’s memory, every year.”

Dean turned to look out the window. But didn’t say anything.

"You also listened to it each time we'd leave a town where there was a girl you liked."

"God, just shut up Sam..." He muttered, laying back down to stare at the ceiling of the car, his wings folded beneath him neatly.

“Dean…”

“Why do you even care? You’re the one that said not to do this.”

“I said not to do it because I didn’t want you dragging Cas along for no reason. Now that it's happened it's kind of obvious you care about him. You two have been dancing around this for years and now that the opportunity has presented itself, and you’ve actually tried it, you’re scared because you’re actually able to feel something for another person that you haven’t allowed yourself to do in a long time and that scares you.”

Dean shook his head, looking more pissed than anything, sitting up again. “Don’t talk about what I feel, like you know.”

“Look I’m not saying that this is going to end in confetti and flowers okay? I’m just saying that you two actually kind of make weird stupid sense. And you should give it a shot. An _actual_ shot. Because if the world really does end this time, what have you got to lose anyway?”

“I’m not gay, Sam.”

“Well it’s a good thing you’re dating a celestial being that doesn’t have a tight concept on gender or sexuality then.”

Dean looked to him; his face scrunched in thought, and sighed.

“I’m not asking for you to rush in and go all Ross and Rachel, on him okay? Do whatever it is that you two feel like you need to do. But for god sake man, give it a god damn chance. I haven’t seen you care about someone besides me in a long ass time.”

“I care about Kevin.”

“You’re trying to _raise_ Kevin. That’s a different thing. And the weird strength of your paternal instincts is something we probably should discuss at some point, but for now,” He put a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Can you get your angel out of my room so I can sleep, please?”

Dean took a moment, but then nodded slowly. For someone that didn’t need sleep anymore, he looked exhausted. And he wasn’t sure exactly what he was supposed to say. But he could at least try to get Cas to understand. It wasn’t really fair to leave him hanging out to dry, while Dean tried to sort out his emotions in a car. “I’ll talk to him. But no promises.”

“As long as you don’t run away from your problems again, I don’t care what you do.”

Dean nodded and sighed. “God, I’d kill for a drink right now.”

“Are you out of Whiskey already? I assumed you’d pack extra.”

“It doesn’t work anymore.”

Sam stopped and raised his eyebrows at him, taking his hand back. “It doesn’t _work_ anymore?”

“It’s an angel thing.” Dean said waving it off.

“Oh, _that_ is rich.”

“Shut _up_ Sam.” He said getting out of the car and storming off to his brother’s room, to get his dumb angel.


	26. Lucky.

“Cas, ya gotta come back to our room.”

Cas turned to face Dean.

“Why? You said if I needed anything I should ask Sam. We were discussing the-“

“Yeah I know what you were doing, but ya gotta let the man sleep. Now come on.” He motioned out of the room.

Cas didn’t move at first, and Dean gave him a stern parental look, that got him moving, skirting past Sam who was waiting outside until they both left.

“I don’t understand what I did wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Dean said with a sigh, closing the door behind them, with a small nod to Sam. He opened the next door over to their own hotel room. “I think we need to talk.”

“I don’t think I like that phrase.”

“I’m sorry, what?” He asked as he closed the door behind them.

“Anytime you say that, ‘we need to talk’, we always end up having a conversation that makes my stomach feel uneasy. I don’t think I like it.”

Dean ran his hands through his hair and sat on the bed. “I like you, Cas. A lot more than I’ve liked anyone in a long time.”

“I feel as if that’s not the point you’re trying to make.”

He sighed. “I don’t want to _not_ be with you. But I don’t think I can in good conscience date you.”

Cas nodded, though it was clear that he didn’t understand what Dean meant.

“Can we just…. Do whatever it is that we do and not worry about what it is?” He asked turning to him.

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t want to be your boyfriend Cas. I don’t want to date you. I don’t want to put a big neon sign above my head that puts a label on shit that I don’t understand; all I know is that I like you. And I don’t want to lose you, but can we put the human lessons on dating, on pause for now and just… see what happens?”

Cas nodded. He still seemed confused, but less so than before. He came and sat next to Dean on the bed, but faced the wall as well, so neither of them were looking at the other.

“Your uh… Your wings aren’t visible.”

“What?” Dean turned to look over his shoulder and, startled himself with the realization, so that they appeared again. “How long were they gone?” He asked, pulling out a bent feather with a small eye twitch, that Cas recognized as a tiny wince.

“Since you closed the door.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I thought you were doing it on purpose.”

“Guess I’m getting better at it.”

“I guess so.”

After that, a quiet filled the room, which didn’t seem to bother either of them. They were both so lost in their own thoughts that neither of them noticed they’d been sitting in companionable silence for almost twenty minutes.

In that time, they stayed staring at the wall in front of them, thinking their own specific thoughts. They didn’t hold hands, because for some reason that seemed too personal right now, but their fingers hooked together, a sort of ‘safe’ way of holding hands. Curling pinkies together, staying connected, but without the weight of ‘what does this mean?’ to pound down on top of them.

Cas yawned, and Dean finally turned to him. “You should sleep.”

He shook his head.

“Come on, Cas. You need to sleep.”

“Are you going to leave?”

“Where would I go?”

“Where did you go before?”

“No, I won’t leave. I can do research or something, like you said.”

Cas paused. “Could… Could you stay here?”

“I just told you I was.”

“No. I mean… in the bed.”

“Oh.” Dean thought for a second and then nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” He shifted, to stand. “I’m gonna take a shower first, and see if I can focus these bad boys away long enough to scrub my back. Give you time to change into sweats and watch TV or something.” He thought of something then. “Are you hungry?”

Cas hesitated, but nodded slowly.

Dean went to his bag and pulled out a twenty from his wallet, and a pizza flyer from the table of hotel pamphlets. “Here. Order something while I’m in there. Don’t go crazy.” He teased and nudged him with a smile.

***

When Dean got out of the shower almost thirty minutes later, he walked out in sweatpants and a black undershirt. “Look Cas, I can keep them hidden long enough to keep a shirt on-… What are you eating?”

“A ‘Supreme special’.” Cas said looking down at the cardboard box on the bed in front of him. He sat cross-legged, in dark sweats and a dark shirt. The TV was playing some action movie.

“No I mean… What’s all over it?”

“Ranch.”

“Ranch?”

“The man on the phone recommended it.”

“You put ranch on the pizza.”

“Yes.”

“On the _whole_ pizza.”

“Yes.”

Dean rolled his eyes with a small smile and put the towel down on the back of a chair. “Well as long as you’ll eat it, I guess it doesn’t really matter.”

“Is that something I shouldn’t do?”

“You can put peanut butter on fish for all I care, it’s your body, just don’t try to make me eat it.”

“You shouldn’t eat anyway. Being able to conceptualize individual molecules while you eat is unsettling.”

“Point taken.”

“… _Should_ I put peanut butter on fish?”

“No… God no.”

“Then why did you suggest it?”

“Just… Stop thinking so much and eat your weird pizza.”

Cas slowly looked away from Dean and back to his food, continuing to eat. “Do you have to focus very hard? To keep them hidden?”

“Actually, no.” He said looking behind himself. “I have to focus to get them to go in the first place. But once they’re gone they just sort of stay there. Unless I get startled or pissed.”

“They’re tied to the emotional part of your soul. So that would make sense.”

“How are they tied to a specific part? I thought they were just there so angel’s could fly.”

“They also display internal emotions outwardly. And can be as sensitive physically as human sex organs.”

“Yeah I seem to vaguely remember that.” Dean said sarcastically, moving so he was leaning against the headboard of the bed. It was nice to feel something pressed to his back again.

“Again, I apologize.”

Dean waved it off. “Forget about it.” And he truly meant that literally. “Tell me about the emotion thing.”

Cas swallowed a large bite. “The wings work similar to canine ears. They move a certain way depending on your emotional state. They flare out when you’re offensive, curl around you when you’re defensive, fold close to your back when you’re apprehensive or scared. No doubt you’ve started to notice the movements.”

“I guess so. Never really paid attention. Didn’t seem important.”

“Well if we come across more angels it will be.”

“… Why?” He asked suspiciously.

“Because you’re an open book right now. Since I’m human now, I can’t see them when you’ve got them hidden. But when I could see them, I could always tell what your emotional state was. Other angels will be able to see them always.”

“You can just _read_ my wings?”

Cas nodded. “All angels can. It’s something you inherently know. Like how to breathe. And angels that still have their grace will be able to see through all the dimensional planes at once, no matter where you hide them.”

“So they’ll be able to see them even if they’re hidden.”

“Yes.”

“And that’s a problem.”

“You’re outwardly a pragmatic fighter, Dean. You focus on anger singularly a lot. But subconsciously you let your emotions run a bit wild. You repress them too much, so they come out in bursts. And as easily as you hide them as a human, your wings are incapable of lying.”

“Great. So I’m an emotional mess in front of an angel army.”

“Well I wasn’t going to put it that way, but if you want to think of it like that…”

Dean groaned and slid down to lay on the bed, covering his eyes with his arm. “Just when I thought I was getting a hold on this angel shit, turns out I suck at it more than before.”

“That’s not true.” Cas moved the pizza to the floor, and turned to face Dean on the bed. “You’re angel radio is all but silent. You can hide your wings. You can even fly if you don’t let your fear of it get to you.”

Dean mumbled, sounding not convinced.

Cas thought for a moment. He needed to pull Dean out of his self-deprecation spiral. “Show me your telekinesis.”

“I suck at it.”

“No you don’t.”

Dean uncovered his eyes and looked at Cas. Looked at those intense blue eyes that seemed to be trying to radiate confidence into him. He sighed, and sat up. He looked around the room, then seeing his dad’s old leather bound journal on the table, held out his hand at arms length and focused on the book. He focused on the molecules around it, and the oxygen in the air, and how supportive everything is of everything else, and how easily it was to deconstruct and reconstruct reality, now that he could see all of the building blocks and pieces.

And then the book was in his hand.

“See?” Cas said with a small smile. “You’re a better angel than you think.”

Dean looked at the book, turned it over in his hand, and had to remind himself not to focus on it as he once did. Because anytime he looked at something, really looked at it, he could see it all now. Every molecule, every breath, every past moment that went through the physical item. It was as if he had to purposefully, slide his eyes out of focus, just so he wouldn’t be overwhelmed as his new ability of comprehension was starting to take over.

“Flight, radio, strength, hiding the wings, telekinesis, and the weird over acting sight.” He listed off the abilities he’d gotten so far. “What’s next?”

“Teleporting. But that comes with mastering the dimensions a bit more. And healing and smiting.”

“Like the two finger thing?”

“Yes. But I wouldn’t recommend it just yet. You could cause whoever you’re trying to heal to explode if you don’t understand it fully.”

“Great.” He set the book down on the side table with a sigh and turned to face Cas. Suddenly all the molecules faded away and his mind was solid once more. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?” He asked softly, his eyebrows creasing in confusion.

“Make everything less … harsh. When I look at you I don’t see molecules and history. I feel almost human again.”

“You are human.” He said gently.

Dean looked at him, his eyes darting from one blue eye to the next. “How are you keeping me grounded like this?”

Cas shook his head after a moment. “I don’t think I want to tell you.”

“Why not?” Dean sounded offended. Why would Cas keep something from him? Something that could help him understand his angel powers better?

“Because it’s an emotional severity connection. And you don’t handle emotional epiphanies well.”

“Rude.” He said, though his posture relaxed a bit. At least it wasn’t some big secret. Just some weird emotional shit. Like his dog ear, wings.

Cas didn’t want to tell Dean the implications of what he was describing. The idea that the world would literally become a simpler place when Cas was near him, meant that they truly were soul mates. And as cheesy as that was, whether it was because of his grace inside Dean, or because he actually cared that deeply for him, Cas knew that, that thought would just cause Dean to shut down again. And Cas didn’t want to risk him running off another time tonight.

The topic of soul resonance in angels was something they could discuss another time. But for now, Cas yawned and Dean patted the space next to him on the bed.

“Come on then. You need some shuteye. Those nightmares still bothering you?”

Cas shrugged slightly, seeming almost embarrassed.

“Well I’ll be here if you need anything.” And he turned off the rest of the lights in the motel, with a concentrated, wave of his hand, leaving just the lamp on that was next to him.

Cas smiled to himself. Dean really was a great angel, for how short a time he’d been forced to deal with his powers. Better than Cas was at dealing with his humanity. He’d ended up putting on a shirt backwards nearly four times today.

He climbed into the bed next to Dean, and as soon as his head hit the pillow, he found himself slipping into a deep sleep.

Dean looked down at him and let out a small one breathed laugh. He grabbed the journal once more, and started flipping through it, determined to find something his dad wrote, that would help them with their Abaddon-Crowley situation. Maybe even something that could get them a head start on Lucifer and Michael. Though he hoped that problem wouldn’t arise for a while. There were too many things going wrong all at once.

But for once in his life, Dean was content. A book to read, something to focus on, and the back of Cas’s hand resting against the bit of skin that was revealed between his shirt and his sweats. As if just the skin to skin contact was enough to keep the nightmares at bay. His mind was clear for once. Dean had to admit, it was nice feeling like he was needed. Being wanted, or liked, or even loved, was okay. But for Dean Winchester, being needed was what gave him purpose to keep going. It's what made him feel worth something for a fleeting moment.

He glanced down at the sleeping ex-angel. Then, before he could over think it, he leaned down, brushed some hair off Cas's forehead and kissed the skin there. “Goodnight Buddy.” The word sounded weird in his mouth now. Like it had a different meaning. Like it didn’t fit anymore.

“Babe.” He corrected himself. And if anyone else had been around he would have denied he’d said it. But the way that the word filled up the idea of Cas, and put a level on their intimacy, in a way that Dean could express, was nice. Everything they were, wrapped up in one nickname without a label or an implication. And he ran his fingers through that thick black hair, while he turned back to the journal, and continued to try to find something useful. 

Maybe he'd get lucky and find something. 

He hadn't gotten a break in a long while. He was due for some good luck about now.


	27. Decisions for Dean.

The next morning Dean had slid out of bed when the sun rose, leaving Cas still sleeping, to go talk to Sam so they could figure out what their plan was for the day.

“Well I mean we don’t really know anything about it.”

“You were the one that said this was a lead!”

“I understand that, Dean. And it’s the best one we’ve got. We’ve got a warehouse that Abaddon owns. Other than that, there’s really _nothing_ to go on here. This might be a life or death situation. It might be a triage mission.”

“Every day is a life or death mission for us.”

“Well then it shouldn’t be a problem. I'm just trying to point out what we're lacking here.”

Dean groaned, frustrated and shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, glad to be able to wear it again now that he’d gotten a handle on hiding his wings, and followed Sam out of the room to load their stuff into the car.

“Dude, you probably shouldn’t leave the door open when he’s asleep.” Sam nodded to the other hotel room.

“I didn’t.” Dean said turning to look. His heart stopped for a moment and he glanced at Sam before they both bolted for the door. They froze upon entering, stopped by a force stronger than them. As if a force field had been put up, just inside the door.

“Hello boys.” Lucifer grinned. “Sam. You’re looking well.” He added, his eyes looking him up and down. Dean stepped in front of him, protectively.

“Where’s Cas?”

“I just gave him a lift to where you were already going.” He shrugged.

“The warehouse.” Sam clarified softly.

Lucifer winked at him with a small smirk, as if congratulating him for a job well done in figuring out the obvious.

“You handed him over to Abaddon? Just like that?” Dean growled almost seething.

“Of course not.” He said sounding slightly offended. “I killed her and that salesman days ago.” He waved his hand as if he’d just brushed them off out of his life.

“Y-… You _what?_ ”

“I don’t have time to deal with their squabble. And this whole Abaddon versus Crowley nonsense?” He scoffed. “How childish. It’s like kids playing at war in their bedrooms. I don’t have time for plastic soldiers and long-winded arguments. I have a lot of things to accomplish in a very short amount of time. Thanks to you two.” His grin suddenly faded to a look of malice and annoyance. “I underestimated you. Or perhaps overestimated. I thought you’d come to your senses in time, but it appears that all that’s happened is that you’ve screwed everyone over.”

“Everyone’ll be a lot better off with you back in your cage.”

“Really?” He took a step closer to the brothers. “Really Dean? You honestly and truly think that? Because from what I can see, the world's in shambles.” He put his arms out as if to gesture to all of humanity. “You and Sam and Castiel have ruined everything. You three, have single handedly, doomed humanity. And all I want to do is fix it.”

“Cut the bull-crap Lucifer. What do you really want?”

“What I’ve always wanted. “ He glanced at Sam, and Dean’s jaw clenched together. “Nothing short of everything.”

Lucifer stretched out his hand to take Sam’s jaw, to look at his face, but the Winchester pulled away with a jerk, and he let go, with a feral smirk. The look seemed to be made all the more terrifying due to the still burning skin on his face, from the weakness of his vessel.

“I look forward to coming to an agreement.”

“Yeah well you can fuck off cause it’s not gonna happen.” Dean stepped between him and his brother again.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He turned to face the blonde. “I’ll be sure to tell Castiel to get comfortable then.” He smiled and padded the side of Dean’s face before he could flinch away with a grimace. “Nice wings by the way.” He walked towards the door, past the two of them and then turned as he reached the frame. “Better get a grip Dean. Prophecy’s coming true. Mine and yours.” He gave him a knowing look, which made Dean’s stomach tighten. “2014’s gonna be a big year. If only we could see how it’s gonna turn out.” The singsong nature of his voice with that sarcasm, coupled with the wink, before he vanished, made Dean’s face pale.

Lucifer knew everything. The prophecy between him and Michael, sure. But the prophecy of him he didn’t even know of until Castiel told him _last night_? How did Lucifer find out about that? And how did he know about when Dean saw the future? _Zachariah_ had done that and Dean had never told anyone. Maybe he didn’t know, maybe he was just bluffing. But what reason would he have to bluff about that?

He turned to Sam, who looked almost worse than he did.

“Sam?”

No response.

“Sam!” He said louder, with more of that desperate husk in his voice.

Sam blinked and shook himself out of it. “Uh yeah… Hi… Sorry.”

“You alright?”

“Been better.” He said, looking disbelieving. Had Dean really just asked that? After everything Lucifer had done to him? Suddenly Sam felt a pang through his chest and he buckled to the ground with a groan, putting a hand on the foot of the bed to stop from dropping all the way to the floor.

“Sammy!” Dean knelt next to him, putting a hand on his back. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” He seethed and shook his head.

Dean bit his lip. “Have you been drinking that mix I made you?”

Sam shook his head.

“You’re never gone heal from the trials if you don’t take care of yourself!”

“I don’t see how some stupid shake is going to make me better.”

“Jesus Sam, would you just trust me for once?”

Sam groaned and sat down on the floor, leaning against the side of the bed.

“Stay here.” Dean said gruffly and went out to the car for a moment, grabbing one of the thermoses of the health drink that he had laced with what demon blood they still had in storage. He came back to the hotel room and handed it to Sam, who drank it reluctantly.

Once he had finished it, they sat on the floor for a few moments before Sam had caught his breath again.

“Let’s go.” Sam said gruffly, when he could stand, seeming embarrassed by the odd attack of weakness, minutes before. Dean followed behind silently.

The drive to the warehouse was silent and terse. They were both on edge. Dean more so than he had been in a long time. He wasn’t going to let this asshole rip his family apart. Not again. Not now that everything was coming together like it was supposed to.

Sam stared straight ahead, but his mind was racing. And though neither of them noticed, he was running a fever. And it was getting worse the longer Sam ignored it. The demon blood rushing through his veins, paired with the trials, and now the memories of Lucifer in the cage, were enough that he should have been crippled. But the amount of ‘crazy’ that Cas had sucked out of him all those years ago must have really done the trick. Or at least done enough to keep him sane for now. But he was cracking.

And it seemed that the worst part of it all was, so was Dean.

They had rarely been in a situation where both of the brothers were on the verge of mental instability at once. They always had each other’s backs, and when one of them was going through some shit, the other was there to help.

But who would take care of them when they couldn’t take care of each other?

The warehouse was barely a ten-minute drive from the motel, and when they got there, Dean immediately got out and made his way to the doors.

“Dean, wait.” Sam called standing next to the Impala, his door still open.

He turned, to look at his brother, confused. “What? What is it?”

“This is _Lucifer_.”

“Yes, and?”

“Shouldn’t we at least have a game plan or something?”

“He has Cas.”

“Yes, I understand that, but it’s not going to help him if we just go in there, and improvise.”

“Then what do you suggest we do?” He sounded more like an older brother than he had in a long time. “Huh Sam? Cause I’m out of ideas and I need to save my angel!”

Sam paused, looking at him. That was the first time Dean had ever referred to Cas as his, rather than ‘theirs’. He had always been  _their_ friend, _their_ angel, _their_ Cas. But now he was Dean’s.  And Sam could see there was something that changed in Dean’s eyes when he said it.

“I just don’t want to do something we’re gonna regret.”

“We regret a lot of stuff we do. Now let’s go.” He started back towards the warehouse and after a moment, Sam followed behind.

Dean tried to use his angelic clairvoyance to search the warehouse, as he held a gun around each corner they came across. Sam nodded towards the main room, and when they both turned to enter, guns pointed out, they were met with laughter.

“Oh this is priceless.” Lucifer put a hand on his knee to steady himself, while he caught his breath. “You two really are predictable. You’d be surprised how much of your life was already mapped out. Guns? Really? You do remember who I am right?”

“We choose our own life.”

“Yes. I get that. You have a weird affinity for the lie of 'free will'. So I’m going to make you an offer, that I already know the answer to.” He snapped his fingers and Cas appeared on his knees, his hands behind his back, bruises on his arms and cheekbones.

“Dean don’t-“ But with another snap of his fingers, there was a gag in Castiel’s mouth. Dean made a move to run to him but Lucifer suddenly had a knife held to the brunet’s throat, pulling his head back by his hair to expose the skin more. Dean froze.

“That’s a good boy. Now here’s the deal. I’ll let you have your broken angel. If you let me have my vessel.”

“I’m not an object to be bartered.” Sam snapped.

“You’re right. You’re so much more.” He said slowly, with a grin, which made Sam recoil half a centimeter. Just enough that Dean could notice, but none of the others did.

“No deal.” Sam said, keeping his gun at chest height, and his eyes on Lucifer.

“Okay then.” And Lucifer ran the knife along Castiel’s neck. The muffled whine of pain that came from him was something that neither Dean nor Sam had ever heard Castiel make before. 

Before he could stop himself Dean shouted, “Wait!”

And Lucifer did, pulling the blade away from the skin. He hadn’t cut deep. Just enough to prove his point. “This isn’t a game for human’s, Dean. This is a strategic maneuvering for just us angels.”

“I’m not an angel.”

“Not yet. But you’re close. I’d give it another month and you’ll be all settled. And if the stories are true, I’ll certainly be glad I kept you around.”

"What stories?" Sam asked.

Dean ignored the question. “Let him go.”

“I will, when Sam says ‘yes’.” He pulled on Castiel’s hair again, to show the still bleeding wound to the two of them.

“When your humanity is gone and you’re a full angel, Dean, you’ll understand the severity of the situation and you’ll be able to see it clearly. So I think I’ll wait until then to demand a final answer. I have some things I need to attend to in hell anyway. Place is a mess. You should see it.” He grinned. “Well… Not that you aren’t acquainted with it already.”

Dean let out a sound that could only be characterized as a growl, and Sam tightened his grip on his gun, though he knew it was worthless in this situation. It was more for comfort now than anything, it seemed.

“Let’s say a couple of months just to be safe.” Lucifer grinned. “That’ll give you enough time to grow into those feathered bad boys. Maybe, make you feel like you’ll stand a chance. It’ll be more fun that way. Let’s say early May?” Castiel winced, as Lucifer pulled his hair sharply to turn his head so Dean could see his face again; see those deep blue eyes. “A broken angel, for a tainted vessel. See you in Detroit.”

And he vanished.

“No!” Dean called and immediately raced to the spot they’d been standing, but all that was left were the drops of Cas’s blood staining the cement ground of the abandoned warehouse room. "No. No no no no no-no-no." He let his concentration drop while all he could focus on was Cas. He let the angel powers that he’d acquired manifest seemingly all at once as he closed his eyes and tried to find him.

Voices got louder in his head, his chest grew tight, the world seemed much more complicated than he’d ever imagined it could be and just as his grace was reaching a dangerous point of consumption around his human form, he felt tight hands on his shoulders.

“FOCUS!” Someone shouted. And Dean’s eyes snapped open, as his grace recoiled inside of him and his angel radio silenced again.

“Gabriel?”

“You just broadcasted your location to every angel in a hundred mile radius ya dumbass.”

“I HAVE TO FIND HIM!”

“You’re not gonna. He’s warded from the inside out. His ribs _and_ a tattoo. So I’m gonna need you to buck up, grab your brother, and get the hell out of here.”

“I need to find, Cas!”

“Dean!” He said looking at him sternly. “Sam is about five minutes away from a PTSD mental breakdown with all this Lucifer crap. So either you take him out of here, or I will.”

Dean’s teeth set together and he nodded slowly, turning to Sam, who was leaning against a wall, his head in his hands, in obvious pain. Maybe Lucifer coming back had shaken some things lose that Dean hadn’t thought of. He turned back to Gabriel, but he was already gone, and he wondered if Sam had even noticed the angel appeared at all.

“Sam?” He said cautiously, walking over to him. “We gotta go.”

He nodded but held his head again and cringed for a moment, before looking at Dean, eyes filled with confusion and fear.

“What is it?”

“I had a vision.”

The hair on the back of Dean’s neck stood up. “Let’s get back to the bunker and figure all this shit out okay?”

“It was of us and… Lucifer and… There was a tacky white suit… Why am I having visions again Dean?”

“I don’t know Sammy.” He lied. “But we need to get out of here. We’re fish in a barrel right now, and I don’t want to stick around to meet any more angelic assholes alright?”

Sam nodded and they made their way back to the car.

May. That’s what Lucifer had said. That was months from now. He couldn’t wait that long. He needed to find Cas as soon as possible. He couldn’t lose him like this. Not now. Not since they’d finally just started to sort themselves out. He'd find a way to get to him. He had to.

He glanced at Sam in the passenger seat as they started to drive down the road. He was surrounded by broken people. Everyone that got near him just seemed to break at some point. He was starting to realize that maybe it wasn't the lifestyle he had, but just _him_. Just being around Dean made people more likely to die.

Or worse.

He white knuckled the steering wheel and focused back on the road.

“We’re gonna fix this. All of it.” He said.

“I’m not so sure we can.” Sam muttered.

Dean pretended not to hear.


	28. Month's pass in the bunker.

The month’s passed in a blur for Dean. Sam was glad that the other didn’t actually need sleep anymore to function, because he was pretty sure that he wouldn’t have slept in that whole time anyway.

Sam continued to get stronger. His headaches got worse and his visions became more pronounced. Dean had to stop putting demon blood in his food to defer suspicion, but it seemed that slowly weaning him off of the stuff made no difference now. He was fully healed. For once Dean’s lying and going behind Sam’s back had paid off. His brother was safe and healthy. All remnants of the trials in his body seemed to have disappeared. Now he just needed to wait for the withdrawals from lack of demon blood to kick in. After they rode that roller coaster Sam would be back to his perfectly normal human self. Hopefully.

If only Dean could say the same.

He’d spent a long time during those few months ignoring his powers, but Cas had been right. He could feel the power growing and every once in a while he would let something slip. Something would explode or his mind would get lost in another dimension for a few hours. It was all much more complicated, based off the fact that he wasn’t born with an inherent knowledge of the universe. He was trying to grapple with an angelic soul, while still maintaining a human mind. Which meant that his human body was slowly starting to become a vessel for him to inhabit. It was the strangest thing, just to slowly start losing touch with your own body. Nothing specific changed. It was just that over time Dean started to feel disconnected. He didn’t need to sleep or eat. Even his urge to fuck seemed to have subsided. All the things that he thought made him human had vanished and now he just felt like he was driving a meat suit around. Much like he drove the Impala. He cared for it. He didn’t want to lose it or injure it. But it wasn’t a part of him. When he introduced himself he didn’t think of the exterior as defining him. It was just what he was in at the time. What he occupied. Which was terrifying.

Dean was having an existential crisis on such a regular basis now that both Kevin and Sam had taken it upon themselves to try and remind him of things he liked. They’d watch his favorite movies; insisted on doing a hunt or two on the side. But everything always led back to reminding him that he needed to find Cas. He was obsessive. 

“We’re going to find him. Lucifer won’t kill him, Dean. Worse comes to worse and we don’t find him before, we’ll go to Detroit and set a trap.”

“And you think he won’t be expecting that?”

“What else can we do?”

“We can keep looking!”

And Dean would storm out and spend the next three days in the library of the bunker.

When he wasn’t researching, he was in the garage practicing. Dean had moved all the vehicles to one side and had turned the place into a sort of angel boot camp. He had almost mastered the things Cas had started to teach him. As much as a human playing angel could. After that he’d moved on to what he’d seen angel’s do. Things he’d witnessed, things he’d heard about, things he’d researched. By the time April rolled around he was controlling his powers with little to know stress. But he seemed to find no joy in it. Since Cas had left he hadn't seemed to have cracked a smile once.

Though when Sam’s birthday rolled around he did make him breakfast. They’d gotten past the idea of presents since they’d started hunting. But he cared about his brother and as pissed and pre-occupied as he was, he couldn’t turn that off. So he’d made breakfast, and left it on a tray in the kitchen under a warming light, for Sam to find in the morning, and spent the rest of the day trying to practice the difference between healing and smiting. It seemed to be literally the same thing, just with a different energy flow. At least that’s what the books he’d found had told him. He just had to focus in a very specific way. He’d never be able to test it unless it was completely necessary. And that’s what frightened him the most. It was all theory until someone's life was in his hands. But then again, wasn't that the same as holding a knife to someone's throat?

Half way through May, the three of them sat in the library, each researching various leads when Kevin spoke up. “Hey guys…” He sounded apprehensive, and the Winchester’s both looked up at him, in a way so similar that Kevin found that no matter how much they seemed to be drifting apart, he knew those two would always be brothers deep down. “There’s an invitation in this book.”

“What?” Dean got up and went behind him.

Kevin pointed at the picture of a cryptograph he was looking at. “It’s written in the same way that the tablet’s are. So only a prophet can read it.”

“Well, what does it say?” Sam came around to look over Kevin’s other shoulder.

“That there’s a meeting of some sort. Ides of May. “ He squinted as the letters blurred over and his head pounded. Why did reading this stuff have to be so literally painful? “At the center of the place, the day angel’s were born.”

“Where angels were born?” Dean looked at the page. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Wait,” Sam went back over to his computer. “Does it say,  _where_ angel’s were born?”

“No it says, where the _day_ angels were born, was born.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Dean grabbed the book from Kevin’s hands to look at it.

Sam smiled and turned his screen to face him. “No, it does. In Detroit in the 70’s they had a sort of anarchist holiday called Devil’s Night where people would go around vandalizing and committing crimes. In 1995 they instituted an ‘Angel’s Day’ at the same time in response to try and keep the city safe from the peak in crime. “

“Okay so?”

“So ‘Angel’s Day’ was born in Detroit.”

Dean’s jaw tightened.

“And the ides of May, that’s May 15th.”

“Okay so May 15th at the geographical center of Detroit.” Kevin took the book back from Dean and looked at it. “But that could mean any year, how do we know it means right now. This could just be a coincidence.”

“It’s not.” Dean said blankly.

“What makes you so sure?”

Dean leaned down and turned a page of the book to the next page. There was a picture of a drawing that seemed to have been done with charcoal on stone. It had a group of people with wings standing at the base of stairs looking up at another figure with wings at the top.

“Cause that’s me.”

Sam jumped up and looked over at it.

“How can you tell?” Kevin said looking at the basic drawing of human figures.

Sam’s face shifted to realization. “The handprint.”

Kevin looked closer at the picture and noticed the handprint drawn on the figures shoulder, and glanced at Dean. “But you don’t have that anymore. You said it disappeared that time Cas healed you after you almost died.”

Dean rolled up his sleeve to show a very faint pink marking of what looked like a remnant of the handprint. “It started coming back when Lucifer took Cas.”

“How is that even possible?”

“I don’t _know_.” Dean said pushing his sleeve back down, sounding annoyed.

“So, what does this mean?” Sam looked at the picture again. “And what does it have to do with Detroit?”

“I’m supposed to lead the angel’s back to heaven. When I’m a hundred percent angel. That’s what that picture’s of.”

“How?”

“I don’t know! But the fact that it’s in the same fucking book as this!” He flipped the page back to look at the cryptograph. “Is too big a coincidence. So let’s pack up and go. We got two days to get to Michigan.” And stormed out. As he did a lot of these days.

Sam watched Dean go and turned back to Kevin, whom already had his nose stuck in a book again. “What?” He asked cautiously.

Kevin shook his head. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“What?” He asked again.

Kevin focused on translating a verse as close to word for word as he could. “ ‘Three to ride in. Three to ride out. Four to fight.’ ” He looked up at Sam. “That math doesn’t make any sense. There’s three of us but-“

“Four with Cas.” Sam cut him off, looking stern as he continued to look at the page, as if something was going to magically make sense to him.

“Three to ride in…” Kevin thought out loud.

“Three to ride out.” Sam finished.

“So what does that mean?”

“We don't get Cas back.”

Kevin swallowed and looked back at the book as Sam stood up. “But we can change it right? You guys always do. Free will and all... Right?”

“Let’s hope.”


	29. Detroit.

“So if you hold it with your thumb on the handle you’ll get more control, but it’ll have less power.”

“Thumb pointed towards the target for flesh wounds. Closed fist around the handle for major damage.”

“Right.”

They’d been driving for a while to get from the bunker to Detroit. During the drive Sam had spent the entire time, turned in his seat looking back at Kevin, giving him a crash course on hunting. Dean wanted to leave him at home again for his own safety but Sam pointed out that since Gabriel and Crowley both knew where the bunker was now, it might not be as safe as they thought. Even if Crowley was dead, like Lucifer said, he could have very easily told someone of it’s whereabouts. And Kevin at one point had started yelling about how if he’d lost his whole family and if he didn’t even have a tablet to translate then he might as well be a hunter because “What the fuck else am I good for!?” And that shut both the Winchester’s up right quick. Because they both knew that feeling of worthlessness, and they couldn’t deny that hunting things and saving people, tended to fill that hole at least for a small moment.

“Never turn your back. It’s better to have your back against a wall, and see what you’re fighting, then turn your back too soon to run.”

“Especially with angels.”

“Right.”

“Er-… Sorry Dean. No offense.”

“None taken.” He said sourly. “Have to be an angel to be offended by that wouldn’t I?”

Kevin and Sam exchanged looks but said nothing more on the matter.

“Alright so our plan is to go to the exact center of town, and angel proof the shit out of it, and then wait till he shows up.” Dean said, turning his head to look as he changed lanes.

“If you can call that a plan.” Sam almost scoffed.

“You got a better one?”

“Yeah. Wait until Kevin can find some anti-angel spell or something.”

“We’ve got an angel blade, and me. That’s all we need. That’s all it’ll take.”

“Dean, I don’t think-“

“That’s all. It’ll take.” He said forcefully, cutting Sam off, who then shared another look with Kevin

There was silence again in the car for the next bout of the drive until Kevin piped up, looking at his smart phone. “Detroit’s city limits are kind of all over the place. There’s no true middle. The closest thing would probably be Voigt Park, but it’s pretty small.”

Dean nodded. And they drove.

By the time they got there, Sam and Kevin were back to talking about methods of fighting demons and monsters that had absolutely nothing to do with Lucifer. But Dean didn't point it out because he had a feeling Sam was doing it on purpose. Because there _was_ no way to fight Lucifer. They were going in to this blind. And in any other circumstance Sam would have forbidden it, or said they weren’t coming along, but it was Cas. If anyone was worth going into a trap for, it was him. Because he was the best out of all of them. Even Kevin would agree, that though Cas had technically done more bad than him, he was worth the most to them. Both in usefulness in their current predicament, and relationship wise. He was part of the family. None of them wanted to give up on him and though it would have made more sense to wait longer and come up with a plan, the hostage situation was something that they had to at least pretend to meet the demands of, to get a chance at getting Cas back in one piece. Beyond that Sam knew what Lucifer was capable of, while in captivity, and Dean had been in torturous hell long enough that neither of them wanted that for Cas longer than necessary.

So they got to the park eventually, and they set up their traps, and did as much angel warding as they could, and they waited.

Three beers later, leaning on the hood of the car, after the sun had gone down, Dean looked up sharply, like a dog that had heard something no one else could.

“What?” Sam asked cautiously, as Kevin looked around, trying to see what Dean had.

“He’s here.”

“How can you tell?”

“ _An-gel._ ” An all too familiar voice sung out. “Isn’t that obvious?”

The three of them turned to see Lucifer looking more torn up than ever. Or at least, his vessel was. It looked like he’d been dragged across pavement for miles.

Kevin grimaced.

“Ooh! New faces.” He smiled. “I’m Lucifer. You must be Kevin Tran.”

“How do you know my name?” He asked sounding cautious and slightly offended.

Lucifer tapped his temple. “Angel knowledge.”

Kevin shook his head. “You’re no angel. Not really.”

He laughed. “Do your homework boy.” He put his arms out to either side to gesture around him. “None of the angels, are angels anymore. Not even Metatron.”

Dean glanced around and noticed the silence around them. He extended his senses as far as a couple blocks and narrowed his eyes, turning to Lucifer. “Where is everyone?”

He shrugged. “Gone. I didn’t want any interruptions.”

“What did you do with them?” Sam finally spoke up.

“Do you really want to know?” He sounded like a worried parent. “ _Really?_ ”

A collective shiver seemed to go through the three of them.

“Besides, shouldn’t you be asking what I did with someone _specific_?” He made eye contact with Dean, and smiled. That kind of sick smile that tugged at the edges of his lips that only Lucifer could do. Condescending and familiar. The kind of smile you feel in your nightmares when you’re running for your life. The kind of smile that's all the worse when you see it, because it stays with you forever.

“Where is he?” Dean asked in a more diplomatic tone, then any of them were expecting.

“Right here.” He said, and snapped his fingers.

What appeared before them, made all of them inhale just a bit sharper than they would have liked. It gave away their hand. And Lucifer smiled, at their reaction; at how much they cared.

Castiel appeared on his knees, but instantly fell forward, barely catching himself on his hands and elbows. Leaned over forward, a rush of blood came pouring from his mouth, with such force, that it was hard to tell whether it was being vomited from his stomach, or coughed out from his lungs, but that much blood should not have been expelled from a single person. Not when they were already covered in it.

He was barely recognizable in the state he was in. There were gashes and scars and burns, littering his body on every inch of skin that wasn’t covered by the torn and ragged t-shirt and jeans, which were almost soaked through with blood already, and Dean found himself hoping that it wasn't all Castiel's. There was no way all that blood was his. No way.

His breathing changed pace at a disconcerting rate. At times it sounded like he couldn’t get enough air no matter how quickly he tried, and at others, it seemed a struggle just to have one breath slowly fill his lungs.

Dean took a step forward, prepared to run to him, but Lucifer put a hand up. “Ah-ah-ah. You think that’s really a smart idea?” He slowly closed his open hand, and Castiel cried out in pain, pushing his forehead into the already blood stained grass beneath him.

“What did you do to him!?”

“Oh Dean. Dean, Dean, Dean. You of all people should be well versed in the terms of what I do with high-profile guests.”

Dean’s hair bristled on the back of his neck as the memories flashed through his mind.

“I gave him the Winchester special. So you both can relate.” He looked up from Cas, to them, and smiled.

“What does that mean?” Kevin asked, since Dean and Sam, both stood, jaws tight.

“The physical torture Dean’s acquainted with.” He gestured to the eldest of the group. “And the mental torture I bestowed on Sam.“ He gestured to him in turn. He seemed very proud of himself.

“He’s very strong. A lot stronger than I’d thought, given his human frame.” He looked down at Castiel. “Those are gonna scar nicely too.” He looked back to them. “Neither of you got any souvenirs from hell did you? Well I mean besides the everlasting psychological effects.” He added, as if it was an obvious given. “Angel’s are so against scars, and I don’t understand it. They can be so gorgeous. They pulled you each out of hell and reset your skin. Such a shame.”

Castiel wasn’t even trying to push himself up. It seemed to be all he could do to keep himself from completely passing out. But he was holding on. He was breathing and he was focusing, and Dean was trying to reach out to him in the angelic way he’d been practicing but for some reason he was having trouble doing much of anything in ways of his angel powers.

“Figured out that you’ve shot yourself in the foot have you?” Lucifer cocked his head to the side. He kept surprisingly long eye contact with Dean, for wanting Sam so much.

“What do you mean?”

“All your angel warding.” He snapped a handful of times, and each time uncovered a different sigil or trap that had been inconspicuously placed in the grace or by the Impala. Places where the pavement of the parking space, met the grass of the edge of the park. The three of them stood on the pavement by the car, facing the two ex-angels, in blood soaked grass across from them, as the marks glowed briefly then vanished. “You can't use any of your angel mojo with these here ya silly-goose. Let’s make it an even playing field.”

As soon as they were gone, Dean felt the surge of energy go back through him, but he didn’t show it.

“Such a stony face. Did you really think you were going to outsmart me?”

“Just give us Cas.” Dean growled. Kevin hadn’t taken his eyes off the bloody mass that was their friend since he’d appeared. Sam kept shifting his eyes from Dean to Lucifer, afraid of what was going to happen.

“He’s all yours.” He made a motion with his hand. Cas was forced, to standing, with another cry of pain, and Lucifer grabbed the back of his hair to keep him up right. “I just need one thing.”

“Forget it.” Dean said quickly.

“Well it’s not really for you to decide is it?” Lucifer turned his attention to Sam, with a smile, which sent a chill through him.

“No way.”

“But I can help you Sam. I can fix you.”

“I don’t need to be fixed, I’m perfectly fine.”

“You really believe that?”

“Yes.”

“So no headaches? No visions? No peculiar shifts in strength and awareness?” Each sentence sent a spike through Sam’s chest. Lucifer grinned. “All a little too familiar isn’t it?”

Dean kept his mouth shut, though he wanted to interject. It was too soon to show that hand.

“What is he talking about?” Kevin asked turning to them.

Lucifer was the one who answered. “Sam was one of the chosen few. One of the 'children with demon blood'. Isn’t that right? Did I get the title correct?”

“Shut up.” Dean said, forgetting his want to stay silent.

Lucifer continued.

“And all of a sudden out of the blue. It starts happening again. For no reason at all.”

“Shut. Up.” He repeated.

“But it’s strange because since the incident, you should only really be having those side effects come back, if you were actively ingesting demon blood on a regular basis.”

“This isn’t about that!” Dean was trying to get him to stop but he just kept going, while Sam was paralyzed with fear of how much truth Lucifer was giving him whereas that creeping feeling of how many times Dean lied to him was setting in. And there was a moment, just a fleeting one, where he weighed the amount of times Lucifer had actually lied and he found that he couldn’t find any, and for a split second, the most infinitely small moment, Sam wondered who exactly, the bad guy really was.

“Although as far as I know you’re not sucking any of my minions dry lately, unless you’ve decided to start avidly fucking one of them again in the hopes they’ll be the first person you’ve slept with that won’t die. Bad luck on your part by the way. Kind of a weird curse isn't it? Probably should look in to that.”

“Lucifer stop!” Dean interjected again.

“Which brings us to the matter at hand.” He ignored Dean, still staring at Sam. “If you’re not drinking it on purpose than how would it possibly get in to your system in that fortress you’ve got yourself hiding in? It’s not like you have someone that predominantly makes all your meals for you, that would have ample access to lace your food without you knowing.” He paused. And smiled. “Oh wait.”

The loudest silence, Dean had ever encountered before. Filled the air. All of them were waiting for what was going to happen. Dean was expecting Sam to start screaming at him, but Sam knew better than to completely lose his shit when they were facing something like this. And Dean knew better than to look at Sam right now.

Dean was the one who ended up breaking the silence.

“It was the only way-“

“Don’t.” Sam warned.

“The trials-“

“Stop.” He said with more edge to his voice.

Neither of them looked at each other.

Castiel let out a small sob of pain, and everyone’s attention seemed to snap back to Lucifer instantly. Cas was on the ground again, apparently having been let go from Lucifer and not being able to hold himself up. He didn’t even seem like a person anymore. His eyes were closed, his head was down, and all he did was breathe. It was like he’d lost what part of him still made him, _him_.

“I can fix it Sammy.” Lucifer insisted.

“Don’t call him that.”

“What do you mean you can fix me?”

“I may be a bit rough around the edges big guy, but I’m still an angel. I still got the healing touch.” He glanced at Castiel. “When I choose to use it.”

“So do I.” Dean insisted.

“Ah but you can’t control if you heal someone or make them explode.” Lucifer pointed out. “Which is fine with the rats you've been practicing with, but on your brother," He made a 'weighing' gesture with his hands. "Could be a problem.” He turned his attention back to Sam. “I can heal you from the inside out. Fix every broken memory and bone. All the trials. Everything from the pit. This demon blood, your brother put inside you. I can make it all go away. If you just say yes.”

“And then what? You’re just gonna use me until I’ve run out of gas like the guy you’re wearing now.”

“Do you think that I’d use you _forever_?” He asked almost laughing. As if it was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard. “I don’t want to be inside a human any more than you want me inside you, I find vessels constricting and grotesque. But necessary. I just need a vessel to get everything done on earth that I need to get done. After that I’ll go back to my true form, rule all three realms from my throne downstairs, and let you have your life back.”

“After you’ve enslaved everyone.”

“I don’t mean to punish humans Sam. I mean to rule hell, get the assholes in charge upstairs, off their pedestal in the clouds, and let earth sort itself out. Metatron’s already done half my work for me. I just need to kill a few archangels, re-arrange some sovereignty issues, and bam; you’re back home safe and sound. Dean get’s his angel, you get healthy, everyone’s happy.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“He’s lying, Sam.” Dean cut in, finally.

“No…” Sam said still looking at him. “I don’t think he is.”

“What?” Dean seemed floored. “You’re gonna take the word of the _devil_ over your own fricken brother?”

“Given your current track record!?” He glared at him. “Yeah!” Sam turned back to Lucifer. “And you won’t hurt Cas anymore? Not by your hand or orders? Nothing. You’ll fix me and you’ll get Metatron out of heaven, kill the archangels, then give my body back.”

"And a bit of clean up at the end. But that's basically it."

"Truthfully?"

"I'm true to my word. You should know this by now."

"And that's it?"

“ _Sam, no_!” Dean was starting to panic.

“Of course.” Lucifer said graciously, with a small nod of his head, that seemed almost aristocratic. The kind of nod that set him apart, that really told you how long Lucifer had been around. How anachronistic he really was.

Sam was so hurt by Dean, and so confused by the situation that he was spiraling. And here was Lucifer, giving them an easy way out. And sure he probably was bending the truth and sure shit was probably going to go down, but they didn't have a choice. And Dean had fucked everything up so badly and lied so much that Sam found that in this moment. This rage filled, hurtful moment of realization at what his brother had done, that he trusted Lucifer. That he had to. Because he didn't have a choice. Did he ever really have a choice?

“Fine.” He forced out through clenched teeth. But Lucifer gave Sam a knowing look, and he corrected himself. “Yes.”


	30. Free Will?

There had been times when the world had slowed to a crawl for Dean before. He had watched Sam die. He had watched his father die. The car crash. The pit. The fire. But nothing seemed to be as terrifying as this moment.

With all his new angelic abilities, still Dean could do nothing but stare at Sam, frozen by what had just happened. Lucifer was walking towards them and Dean found that he must have repeated an infinite amount of combinations of the words ‘no’, ‘please’, 'don't', and ‘Sammy’. But even when he tried to step between them, with a wave of his hand Lucifer moved him out of the way. It seemed that even with all this power he was supposed to have, he still didn’t have enough to save his brother from the devil himself.

Everything seemed to go silent in the most deafening way possible as Dean struggled to run at them, but was frozen by whatever force Lucifer had holding him in place. He screamed, though he couldn’t hear his own voice, and he watched as Lucifer put his filthy hands on his brother. Sam’s head tilted back, and in one quick moment his eyes and mouth glowed, and then Lucifer’s original vessel collapsed, already dead from the amount of blood loss. Dean wondered how long the guy had been dead, while Lucifer was wearing him. Had it been weeks? Months? Years?

Dean couldn’t bring himself to care about whomever the poor soul was that had been Lucifer’s original vessel, past that curiosity though. He felt the force lift from him and took the two running steps to reach his brother, but just as he was about to put a hand on him, Sam turned and smiled. He smiled in a way that was so, one hundred percent, not a smile that would ever fall on his little brothers lips, that it made Dean stop, and recoil his hand.

“Now it seems that I have quite a lot of work to do for now. Let me know when you unlock heaven.” He smiled again, as if he and Dean had some sort of inside joke. “I’ll be first in line.” And then he vanished.

Dean stared at the space where his brother had been, and collapsed to his knees, still in shock. He didn't cry out. He didn't scream. He didn't punch the ground. He just froze. If Kevin hadn’t have spoken up, he wouldn’t have remembered he was there.

“Um… Dean?”

He looked up at the kid, who nodded towards Cas, now collapsed on the grass half a dozen yards from then. Dean scrambled to his feet, remembering his fallen angel. When he got to Cas and knelt beside him, he felt the squelch of the blood soaked earth beneath him and almost vomited right then. Instead he focused on his friend, taking him in his arms, and turning him to lay with his head in Dean’s lap. “You still with me, buddy?”

Cas nodded, though just barely, and corrected Dean with a soft "Babe," as his breath hitched and his face contorted in cringe of pain.

Dean nodded, and tried to smile. "Babe." He agreed.

Cas was hurt in so many places that he didn’t know what to hold, instead he just curled his arms around his stomach, and leaned in to Dean’s warmth.

“Kevin!” Dean called over his shoulder, only to find the kid standing right next to him. “Oh. Uh, get the first aid kit from the trunk would ya? You might have to do some digging, but it’s in there.” He watched him go, turned back to Cas, and then added, yelling after him. “Don’t hurt yourself!” There were a lot of weapons that he could accidentally slice his hand open on, and Dean wasn’t prepared to deal with that right now. He needed to fix Cas first.

“Well I will give you one thing.” Dean’s head snapped up to see another figure standing over them. “You don’t give up easily.”

“Adam?” He asked cautiously.

“Oh heaven’s no. I let Adam’s soul into heaven the second we got out of the pit. He’d suffered enough.”

“Michael.” Dean corrected himself apprehensively.

“Good boy.”

Dean’s skin crawled at the term.

“What are you doing here? Where were you five minutes ago!?”

“So you wanted to get rid of me, but here you are begging for my help?”

“My brother is-!”

“Indisposed. Yes I figured. There was nothing I could do to stop it. It was going to happen no matter what. Lucifer’s always had that goal in his sights. I just have to hope that I can find him and stop him before things get out of control. But without a stronger vessel I won't stand a chance against him. That's why I couldn't come until he left.” He looked at his arm. Adam’s arm. As the skin was peeling away.

“Take me.” Dean said quickly. “Yes. I say yes. Right now. Stop this before it happens. You can stop this.”

Michael smiled, an almost sad smile. “You’re not a vessel anymore Dean. You’re an angel.”

“No I’m not!”

“But you are.” Michael squatted down next to them as Castiel coughed and blood came from his lips. “You are more angel than any of us. You want to know why?” Michael took Dean’s hand. “Because you’re what father wanted. An angel to watch over humanity. An angel to care about life on earth more than anything else. More than heaven. More than hell.” He curled Dean’s fingers against his palm, except for his index, and middle finger, and pressed them to Cas’s forehead. “You are meant to be the most powerful angel in history, because you're not just any angel. You're _humanity's_ angel. You just have to believe you're worthy of it.”

Dean looked from his hand to Michael and shook his head. “No. You have to save him. I can’t. I don’t know how.”

“All you have to do, is want to.”

“What?”

“Do you want Castiel to die?”

“No!”

“Do you think he deserves to live?”

“Yes!”

“Even as just a human?”

“Yes!”

“Is he important?”

“Yes!”

“Do you love him?”

“Y-!...” Dean looked down at him and swallowed. “Yes.”

“Then close your eyes, and focus on the man you love, the _human_ that you love, and how you want him to be.”

“What if I kill him?”

“You won’t.”

“How do you know that?”

Michael smiled a knowing smile. But didn’t answer.

Dean hesitated but, closed his eyes, and focused. He focused on Castiel. On how he sat at the table to eat. On how he never allowed his limbs to hang off the bed. On the way he squinted his eyes and tilted his head. Always. Always the squinted eyes. And he wanted him to be whole again. To be his Cas. The Cas he knew. The Cas he loved. He wanted him to be happy and healthy and in one piece again. And he felt his chest swell, as the power ran through his veins.

Michael let go of Dean’s hand and stood up, to watch.

Kevin turned from digging through the trunk, and swearing at himself, to see the glowing light emanating from where he’d left the pair, and froze, not sure what he should do.

Then all at once the light went out, and all of the physical injuries, vanished. But Lucifer was right. The scars were still there. Dean wondered if he could get rid of them if he focused more. But he was afraid of trying again and doing something wrong. Of pushing his luck too far.

Cas was breathing, but he wasn’t conscious. Dean looked up at Michael confused.

“He wasn’t allowed sleep while he was being tortured. And the way time moves down there, I’m surprised he stayed conscious this long.”

“Is he in a coma?”

“No. Just let him rest. I would drive if I were you. Though you could fly if you wanted to. Teleport, I mean. Since that’s what you like to call it.”

“How come you can do that? I thought all the angels lost their wings when they fell.”

“Lucifer and I didn't fall. We were raised from hell. So our wings are intact. You got yours after the fall so it makes sense.”

“What about Gabriel?”

Michael narrowed his eyes. “Gabriel sold most of his angelic divinity to be a Norse god. I would be surprised if he could still get into heaven at this point, let alone technically ‘fall’. He’s not an angel anymore. Not really.” It seemed like a soar spot for him, so Dean didn’t push it.

Michael looked down at his little brother and sighed. “When he was assigned to you, I didn’t think it would go this far.”

“What do you mean?”

“He wasn’t supposed to use his grace to stitch you back together. This,” He motioned to Dean’s wings, that were still hidden in a different plane, but Michael could see clearly. “Wasn’t supposed to happen. We didn’t think you were the one from that prophecy. You weren't supposed to be the catalyst in _two_ prophecies. That just doesn't happen. The Righteous Man, _and_ The One to Lead Us Home. Ridiculous.”

“But then why did he save me?”

“You were supposed to be my vessel.” He said simply. “You were supposed to stop the world from ending. But you never wanted that did you? Looks like you cheated your way into your own kind of free will after all Dean Winchester. By nullifying one prophecy with another.” He looked at the wings again, and then back to his brother. “If he wasn’t assigned to you, I wonder if he would have found you some other way. I wonder if he's ever wished he could leave.”

“He’s had that choice all along.”

Michael shook his head. “There’s no way he could leave you. He was assigned as your guardian from the day you were born. It’s a good thing he actually likes you. Because even if he hated you, he’d be stuck with you until one of you dies.” Michael let out a small-breathed laugh. “ ‘Till death do you part.’ “ He smiled, sadly again, to himself.

“How do I get my brother back?”

“You don’t.” Michael looked serious then. “Lead the angels into heaven, Dean Winchester. And maybe that can repent for all your sins up till now.”

“I don’t care about that, I want my brother back!”

“Stop acting like a child.” Michael almost spat the words. “You wanted a choice well now you have one. Fix the world by saving the angels from Metatron. Or watch Lucifer burn it down with your brother as the poster boy.”

Something in Michael’s voice, struck fear into Dean. But he was still angry. "And what are  _you_ gonna do while I do all the dirty work?"

Michael made that small almost eery smile again. "Why, spread the good word of course." Though it sounded like he thought it was anything but good. "Inform the angels of what's happened. And hope that they'll forget your past trespasses, and follow you when the time comes."

"I don't want to lead the angels."

"Well, and I know how much you just love to hear these words, but you don't have much of a choice." Dean looked like he was fuming. “Save the angels, Dean. Save humanity.” And he vanished.

He stared at the spot Michael had vanished from, until he heard Kevin behind him. “I brought the kit… But it looks like you don’t need it anymore.”

Dean looked up at him, then down at Cas. “ Thanks. Uh… Yeah. I guess not.” He was afraid to move Cas. Afraid that maybe he hadn’t healed everything yet. But he had to get them back to the bunker. Back to somewhere safe. So he got up slowly, and carried Cas like a sleeping child, blood still soaked through both of their clothes, Lucifer’s vessel crumpled in the grass a few feet from them.

Kevin looked at Dean for instruction. For some idea of what to do next. And Dean realized that he’d always been the one people turn to. He’d always been the leader. Sometimes because he wanted it. Sometimes not. And now was no different. He would just have to lead a lot of feathered assholes into the light, so that they could cut Lucifer off at the pass, before things got out of hand. And then he'd ditch. Like he always did. But for now, he had to do whatever he could to fix this. He could freak out about his brother later when he was alone, and no one was counting on him.

But for now, he would be strong for Kevin. And for Cas.

“Let’s go home.”


	31. Piece by piece.

Weeks pass in the bunker and a silence settles over the trio. Not complete silence, but an unspoken promise not to talk about anything unnecessarily. No one mentions how Dean scarcely has any humanity left in him. No one mentions how broken Cas is. No one mentions Kevin's mom. And above all, no one mentions Sam. Not even once.

Dean put all his energy into trying to find Lucifer; into trying to figure out a way to stop this apocalypse from happening. Cas had seemed to have forgotten everything he learned about being human, before hell, and spent his days trying to numb himself to the pain of it, inside and out. He slept enough for two people now. Enough that Kevin once made a joke about how he must be making up for the amount of sleep Dean didn’t need anymore. He made a mental note not to make jokes anymore, when Dean shot him such a terrifying glare, that he lost all color in his face for a full day.

The tension hit a breaking point on a Tuesday; the kind that seemed to drag on forever. Not that any of them really had much concept of time anymore. Every day felt the same now. They could have been living in a million Tuesdays, stretched out forever, and never noticed.

“Has Cas gotten up yet?”

Kevin looked up from the book he was skimming, an eyebrow raised. “What do you think?”

Dean closed the leather bound ancient encyclopedia he’d been trying to glean something from, with a loud snap, and got up to go find the other.

He pushed open the door to his bedroom, knowing that Cas wouldn’t be in his own (he hadn’t slept in his own bed since they got back from Detroit) to find the brunet, curled into a ball on his side, his face buried in one of the pillows; as if he was trying to force himself to be consumed by the mattress itself.

“Come on Cas. It’s nearly three o’clock, you gotta eat something.”

Castiel didn’t move.

Dean sighed and closed the door behind him, walking over to the side of the bed Cas was on, and sat on the edge of it. “You can’t go on like this.” He’d hoped this posttraumatic stress thing would pass, as it had with himself and Sam in previous situations. But he didn’t bank on Castiel having to deal with his existential humanity as well as crippling psychological and physical pain all at once. He wasn’t expecting him to break so quickly. So completely. 

“I need you.” He offered and wiped some of the hair out of Castiel's face to see his eyes squinted shut in concentration; trying to push out the world around him.

“You don’t.” Cas finally said, in a soft whisper.

“I really do. You know more about this angel stuff than anyone. And if we’re gonna stand a chance, I need you at my side, buddy.” Cas flinched at the nickname and Dean corrected himself. “Babe.”

For some reason, the idea of conventional human forms of affection, was what seemed to keep Cas grounded. They weren’t the most conventional of couples though, to be fair. They slept in the same bed, and acted as slightly more than just friends. But given their current situation, neither of them ever seemed to deam it necessary or appropriate to take anything further. At least not now. Not yet. Not while the universe was collapsing around them.

Dean slid his hand into Castiel’s, and let his fingers curl around his hand tightly, to remind him that he was still there. That he was going to protect him. That he was going to support him.

“I know this is hard."

"Do you?"

"If anyone knows what you're going through it's me."

"You seem to be handling your species alteration just fine." Cas mumbled, sounding like a cranky child.

Dean pressed his lips together and decided to ignore the argument about 'whose life was harder' that he didn't want to have for the umpteenth time. "You can’t lock yourself away like this when the world is counting on us.”

“The world is counting on _you_.”

“And _I’m_ counting on _you_.”

Cas pressed his face harder into the pillow. “I don’t think I can process anything right now.”

“And being asleep will help that? The time when your brain's the most active and your nightmares reek havoc?”

“Then what do you suggest I do?” Cas turned his head and opened his eyes to finally look at Dean. “What did _you_ do?”

“What you mean?” Dean was only vaguely lost by the conversation. He was more distracted with Castiel’s soul at the moment. He had learned, with his new angelic abilities, that the eyes, literally, were the windows to the soul. Because when he looked at someone’s eyes he could see every part of them that had been or will be or could be or was. And Castiel’s was breathtaking. He’d told him that once, but Castiel, lost in his spiral of pain and regret, didn’t believe him. He assumed Dean was just being nice as a ploy to coerce him out of bed.

“When you were human, and in pain, what did you do? You always kept going and I want to know how. With blood running down your skin, tears on your face, shards in your soul, you limped on. How?”

Dean’s heart clenched at the phrase ‘when you were human’. As if he wasn’t anymore. As if he never would be again. “The truth?” He said sounding, not at all proud. “I drank.” He said with a shrug. “A lot.” And god did he wish he could to that now. He’d tried. And he remembered once Castiel had gotten drunk as an angel after devouring an entire liquor store, but there was something about the divinity of Dean and the manifestation of his powers that made it completely impossible. No matter how many times he emptied the liquor cabinet on his own. Maybe if he drank a Walmart. 

“Is that what all humans do?”

“No. It’s just common.” Dean looked down at their intertwined hands.

“Other humans have different ways to cope?”

“The healthy thing would be exercise I guess. A therapist probably. Not that, that’s a good idea in this situation. They’d probably throw you in a mental ward.” Cas closed his eyes again and curled in on himself. “Sorry.” Dean said quickly, forgetting the hell Cas went through when he took the madness from Sam, and spent all that time in the mental hospital.

“What else do humans do?” Cas asked in a hollow voice.

“For pain? All sorts of things. Sex. Drugs. Violence.”

“I’m certainly acquainted with the latter, and I find it not so conducive to my well being.”

“Well none of them are really conducive to anyones well-being. At least not when used to repress stuff.”

“Have you done them all?”

“...Yes.” Dean said after a brief pause.

“I think I’d like to try them.”

“….Cas-“

“If you want me to stop sleeping, to numb the pain of reality, than I’m going to need a different coping mechanism.”

“Cas, I don’t think-“

“Dean,” Cas turned over and sat up, pulling his hand out of Dean’s grip, to look at him sternly. “I am asking for your help. I would like the screaming and pain in my head to fade into a dull-clouded haze that I can ignore and repress until I can figure out how not to start sobbing in the middle of the kitchen whenever I see a serrated edge. Sleep is my preferred form escape at the moment, so if you would like me to get out of this bed for anything other than to relieve myself, then I suggest you get me a drink, a prostitute, or some form of mind altering substance." He had to hold himself up with his arm on the headboard, with the effort it took to speak with such fury, when he'd barely eaten. "I was taken apart by my brother. _Piece, by piece._ And I'd like to forget that.”

Dean stared at him, slightly stunned, and thought, for a long moment.

“If I get you a bottle of whiskey, will you eat something first? And get up?” He was far thinner than he used to be, and it worried Dean. Though he wasn’t very good at showing it lately.

“Add a beer that I’ll have _while_ I eat, and I’ll even shower.”

Dean sighed, and nodded. He didn’t like this Cas. This new Cas that was borderline flippant. It wasn’t the Cas he liked. The one he loved. But it was the one he got. And he’d rather have him, broken, than not at all.

He leaned forward, and after a brief pause, kissed Cas on the forehead.

Castiel closed his eyes, the tension draining from his shoulder, slumping against the headboard. He looked like he was on the verge of tears, now.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“I barely speak now. I’m a shell of what I used to be. I monopolize your bed and your life and you still come in here, sliding your fingers into the spaces between mine. You show affection when I give none back.”

Dean smiled sadly. “Guess I’m holding out for the day when you get your head back on straight.”

“What if that never comes?”

“It will.”

“How do you know?”

“I have faith.”

And the weight of those three words, hit Castiel harder than if Dean Winchester had proposed to him right there. The man who once was so against religion and god, that he denied its existence with an angel in front of him. The faithless man, had faith in him: Castiel. The broken shell of a fallen angel, with no reason to be here.

“Hey,” Dean noticed the way Castiel’s eyes faded, and he recognized the look of self-hatred and disappointment, having seen it so many times in the mirror within himself. He put one hand on the side of Cas’s face to look at him and offered a small reassuring smile. “When I picture myself happy, it’s with you.”

Cas tried to smile, but it faltered as tears slid down his cheeks. He was grateful that Dean pretended not to notice. “I’m glad I found you.” He said in a shaky breath.

“Me too.” He nodded and kissed Castiel briefly, before standing up. “I’ll have lunch ready in a half hour. That enough time to shower and get up?”

Cas nodded.

There was a knock on the door and they both turned. “Yes?” Dean said confused.

“Um,” Kevin pushed open the door. “No one’s been in the demon prison since Crowley left right?”

“No. Why?” Dean asked, suspiciously.

“I think you should come look at this.”

Dean sighed and nodded. He glanced back at Cas on his way out. “Thirty minutes. Then you eat.” He said pointing at him. Cas nodded and waited until they left to lay back down and stare at the ceiling for a moment. He pushed his palms into his eyelids and tried to focus on breathing for a few seconds. Then slowly he rolled over and sat up to swing his legs over the side. He noticed a half drunk bottle of whiskey, peaking out from under the bed and bent over to pick it up. He glanced at it for a moment, and then unscrewed it, drinking the rest of it in one long drink. He cringed and coughed when he pulled away from the lip, but once he stopped choking on the burn, he took a breath, and found that the almost immediate warmth in his stomach was soothing. He glanced at the bottle and scanned the label on the back. Maybe the old Dean was on to something. Whiskey did seem to bring a level of comfort to his body that felt far from his own right now.

He put the bottle back where he found it, and grabbed a towel from Dean’s closet before heading to the bathroom to shower. The alcohol felt nice, but it made him feel heavy and melancholy. Maybe he’d have to look up how humans acquired drugs on a regular basis and give them a try. Maybe they could numb the feeling in his soul and make it easier to force a smile for Dean. He wanted to forget, but he wanted to be happy. Or at least seem that way. For Dean's sake.


	32. The beginning of the end.

“How did it get here?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I didn’t put it here. I dropped it remember.”

"Maybe someone picked up the pieces."

"Crowley?"

“Crowley’s dead.”

“That’s what _Lucifer_ said.”

Dean stood in the small dungeon with Kevin and stared at the piece of stone that was sitting on the table in the middle of the room. “Are you saying that he’s not?”

“I’m saying that Lucifer isn’t exactly a reliable source as far as information goes.”

“The little shit takes a lot of pride in pointing out he never lies.”

“Yeah and you take a lot of pride in how much whiskey you drink, but look where you are now.”

Dean’s jaw tightened, and Kevin immediately regretted the flippant comment. Neither of them drew attention to it though.

“How close were you to deciphering it?”

Kevin shrugged. “Pretty close to the next bit. It doesn’t really ever end. There’s always something I miss or something that changes. I can’t really explain it.”

“Well our best bet is for you to get started again.”

Kevin sighed, and turned to look at the tablet. “Yeah…” He went over and picked up the angel tablet, testing the weight in his hand, and watching as the symbols shifted and moved, burning into his eyes as they always did when he looked at them. “I thought you said this place was like Fort Knox.”

“It is.”

“Well it’s starting to feel more like Watergate.”

Dean crossed his arms. “What are you getting at?”

“This is like the third time something’s gotten into the bunker without our knowing or say so. I’m starting not to feel real safe here.”

Dean thought for a moment before nodding. “Fair enough. I’ll look into it. You focus on that for now,” He tilted his head towards the tablet. “Let me do the warding.”

Kevin nodded his agreement and moved past Dean to go to the library to start working. Dean glanced once more around the room, trying to see if he noticed anything. Any crack or smudge that would give him a clue as to what had happened or how it got in. Or how someone got in. But he saw nothing, and hit the lights before closing the door behind him.

Dean was itching to do a once over of the bunker, but he was more worried about Cas right now. So he focused on the breakfast he’d promised. When he was nearly done, a still damp Castiel wandered into the kitchen, in a set of Dean’s sweats and yawned.

“How am I still tired when I sleep all day?” He asked with a mutter.

“You’re just groggy. It’s different.” He put the omelet and toast on a plate, before pouring a glass of orange juice.

“How is it different? What is it?”

Dean thought for a moment, putting the juice away, and then pushed the plate and the glass to the end of the counter, where there was a stool for Cas to sit on. “I’m not sure. It’s hard to explain.”

“All the universe at your minds disposal and you can’t explain the difference between being tired and being ‘groggy’?”

“There was a lot of shit you didn’t understand when you were an angel, don’t get uppity at me cause I don’t know everything.”

They seemed to both always be on edge now. An uncomfortable silence followed, the short argument.

After a few minutes of Cas quietly eating, and Dean pretending to find things to clean in the kitchen (not wanting to leave for fear of Cas throwing the food away and pretending to have eaten), Kevin came in with a small stack of papers in his hands looking excited.

Or was that anxiety?

“Do you know what a ‘Croatoan’ is?”

Oh, this was bad.

Castiel stopped eating. Dean’s face went pale.

“Yeah, why?”

“Cause it’s all over the side notes in this.” He said spreading out the papers of scribbles and markings he’d taken while deciphering the tablet.

“Is this supposed to make sense to me?”

“Here.” Kevin pointed to a point on the page, which made no more sense to Dean than anything else listed there. “It’s a sort of addendum. This portion is listing all the things that define vessel rules for angels but the idea of consent is kind of vague.”

“Yeah, they can still date rape their way into your soul if they want.”

Kevin looked at him, looking slightly disgusted at his word choice, but mostly confused.

“They can torture you until you agree to be a vessel. It’s more work on their part, but it still counts as consent as far as they're concerned.”

“Coercion is an angelic talent.” Castiel muttered, sounding bitter.

“Right.” Dean said uneasy, turning back to Kevin. “So what does that have to do with the Croatoan virus?”

“This doesn’t say it’s a virus, it describes it as a sort of change in type of human. Like a species shift.”

“Well you’re certainly not human once you turn into a Croat. They’re just blood thirsty monsters.”

“They seem to be perceived as how we’d think of zombies.” Kevin said flipping through some more papers.

“You still haven’t told me what this has to do with the tablet.”

Kevin stopped and read through another line of random squiggles, lining it up with something on another page. “You said it was like a virus right? Spreads quickly?”

“Yeah. At least from what I can remember from the past. Or the past’s future.”

Kevin looked at him.

“Don’t worry about it, keep going.”

“If they’re mindless zombies than there’s no way to give consent.”

Cas finally spoke up again. “That’s true. No matter what you do to someone with the Croatoan virus, if they’re too far-gone it won’t matter. They’ve lost their humanity, they've lost their ability to give consent no matter what.”

“But demons don’t need consent.”

Dean nodded. “They can hijack whoever they want.”

“Unless you’ve got the tattoo.” Castiel pointed out nodding to Dean’s chest.

“Well yeah.” He agreed.

“So theoretically,” Kevin started. “If there was an epidemic of this virus somehow, the angel’s would be fucked.”

“There wouldn’t be enough vessels for them.” Castiel realized.

“Demons would have an infinite amount of choices, whereas any angel that didn’t already have a vessel would be stuck floating around indefinitely. Or be trapped in heaven forever.”

“If we can ever get them back to heaven.” Dean said offhanded.

“This is how Lucifer is going to build his army.” Kevin said looking up at him. “Croat’s who aren’t possessed can do the front line killing. And demons can possess whoever they want.”

“That is if he can get a proper portal open from hell.” Castiel pointed out. “There are a fair amount of monsters and demons out already, but they’ve had to claw their way to the surface. It’s not easy getting out of hell. Lucifer has to find a way to do that.”

“So the Croat’s are his first step, and the portal after that?” Dean said looking back at Kevin’s papers, as if they were going to suddenly make sense to him.

Kevin kept reading his notes. “Let’s just be glad he doesn’t have his hands on the demon tablet. Or this one really.”

“To make a portal?” Dean asked.

“Well,” Kevin ran his finger along a line of symbols, smearing them together, and then noticing something for the first time. As if allowing them to smudge, made an epiphany appear. “This mentions an inter-dimensional, multi-plane, portal creation. It doesn’t seem to be particular to heaven or hell. I mean,” He squinted at the paper, and then rubbed his eyes, the words starting to burn from him staring at them for so long. “It seems like you could make it to anywhere. Heaven, hell, even purgatory.”

Castiel’s face shifted from the sullen look it had to one of actual realization. “That’s how you lead them to heaven.”

“What?” Kevin looked up.

Dean looked unsure. “Let’s just keep focusing on the task at hand.”

Castiel went on. “Kevin you need to figure out how to work those portals, how to close, and open them. It could be our final chance to get the angels back in heaven.”

“And the demons back in hell.” Dean offered sounding a bit offended that Castiel hadn’t mentioned that bit.

“Of course.” Castiel nodded.

“And see if there’s any sort of lock on those things. If we can get the weirdo’s back in their rightful places and shut their respective gates forever, we’d all be a lot better off.”

“Right.”

Dean’s head snapped to look behind him when he felt a change in molecular structure of the room. Michael was now standing in their kitchen.

“I have a lead.”

“Seriously is there like an ‘enter here’ sign somewhere that I don’t know about?” Kevin said, as he gathered up his papers protectively.

“What the fuck, are you doing here?” Dean almost snarled.

“Michael?” Castiel asked in a whisper.

Dean stood protectively next to Castiel, and Michael almost smirked at the irony of it.

“What do you want?” Dean snapped.

“I found the colt.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “You were looking for the colt?”

“No. Surprising as it may seem I was not doing your dirty work, Winchester. But I overheard that there’s an outcropping of demons in a city in Kansas that were entrusted with it.”

“What’s the colt?”

“Just... Shut up, Kevin. For like two seconds.” Dean didn’t look away from Michael. “How did you get in here?”

“Place isn’t angel proof, honestly you should have noticed that since you can do whatever you want in here without so much as a side cramp. It’s everything else proof. Despite a few scratches I can see that salesman-demon made while he was inside to make it easier for himself to navigate.” Michael glanced at Kevin, as if he knew that he was the one that let Crowley go in the first place. Kevin dropped his eyes to the papers in his hands. Michael pressed on. “I suggest you get a move on.” He snapped and a piece of paper appeared in his hand that he gave to Dean. “This is the town. There are some abandoned houses and cabins on the edge that you can hole up in for a few days. I’d suggest staying away from the hotel, as it is your usual go to, and will be extremely easy to track.”

Dean’s lip curled up in a snarl, but he took the paper and glanced at it, recognizing the city immediately. His blood ran cold. He looked up and Michael was gone.

He groaned. "Where the fuck is Gabriel with all of this. Little fucker said he was gonna help." He muttered to himself.

When Dean finally stopped staring at the spot where Michael had been, he looked over to Kevin and Castiel, who were both staring at him. Kevin with blank confusion. Castiel with fear. Dean realized Castiel hadn't seen Michael in a long time. It was probably more than a little overwhelming.

“Well?” Kevin said cautiously.

“Pack everything you can’t live without. We’re moving our operation.”

“But there’s so much useful information here.” Kevin said glancing out the door of the kitchen, as if longing to be in the library once more.

“Exactly. We need to get out of here. We’re a beacon right now, drawing a whole mess of supernatural crap right to a gold mine of information they can use against each other and us.”

Kevin sighed, looking defeated.

“Start packing. We leave tonight. Whatever we can fit in the Impala with us, nothing more.” As Kevin started to go, presumably to gather what materials he needed to continue deciphering the tablet, Dean called after him. “Don’t forget toilet paper!”

“Why!?” Kevin called back from the hallway.

“Just trust me!” Dean yelled, and then turned to Cas. “You’re awfully quiet.”

Cas picked at his food with the fork, his breakfast only half gone. “I never thought I'd see him again..." He muttered, referring to Michael. He paused and then added. "I have a bad feeling about this.”

Dean put a hand on the back of Castiel’s neck, rubbing it. “I think we all do.”

Cas turned to look at him and studied his face for a moment. “You know something we don’t.”

Dean swallowed. “It’s not important now.”

“Is it not important, or do you just not want to tell me?”

How could Cas read right through him so easily? “I’ll tell you soon. Just… Just not right now.” He offered a small forced smile. “You should pack.”

Cas nodded and stood up. He paused for a moment and then leaned forward to kiss Dean. An easy kiss. Just soft lips on dry ones, no open mouth, no movement beyond that innocent press against each other. He pulled away looking at those green eyes. “You’ll always be our leader.” He said softly. “And I will always follow you.”

Once Castiel disappeared from the kitchen, Dean was left standing for a few moments. He wasn’t sure exactly why Castiel felt that he needed to hear that, right then. But it did seem to help a bit. He sighed and cleaned up the kitchen before making his way down the hallway to the bedrooms.

He paused at Sam’s door, and pushed it open.

When they saved him, the kid was gonna need a change of clothes. Who knows what Lucifer would have him wearing?

A flash of that tacky white suit went through his mind, but he shook it away, forcing it from his mind.

While going through the closet to figure out exactly which stupid flannel he was going to grab, Dean’s foot hit a small shoebox on the ground. He paused, glancing down at it. It was odd. There weren’t any other shoeboxes. Just one pair of shoes on the ground next to it. He slowly squatted down and lifted the lid of the box.

It was mostly pictures.

Pictures of that girl and that stupid dog, that Sam had chosen over Dean. Pictures of Jessica. A piece of old silver jewelry that Dean vaguely remembered as being on the dresser of that werewolf girls house. He'd only remembered it because of it's weird specific design.

It was a box of memories.

A box of regrets.

A box of everything Sam had lost.

And at the very bottom of it, amidst various other pictures and random trinkets and crap Dean didn’t recognize, was a thick black piece of string, with a gold amulet on it.

He slowly pulled the necklace out of the box and stared at it, as it dangled from his fingers, swaying gently. Sam must have picked it out of the trash when he threw it away all those years ago after that fight.

After a few moments of indecisive staring, Dean finally closed his fist around the amulet, and put the lid on the box, leaving everything else behind to be forgotten.

He grabbed the clothes he came in to get, and quickly tied the stupid necklace around his neck, before exiting the room, closing the door, and purposefully not looking back.


	33. In which time passes and things change.

The night they left had a heavy heat to start the summer. They had packed up and left the bunker, and Dean felt more heartbroken about it than he had about anything in a long while. It was the first place he really had called home in as long as he could remember. Even Bobby’s house never had that feeling of permanency or safety that a home was supposed to have. The bunker had meant more to him than he was willing to admit, and he was ashamed to say that when they finally piled everything into the impala and drove away from the bunker for good, he didn’t even look back. Because he was afraid he might not have the will to leave if he did.

Once they got to the run down little town Dean felt he was going to throw up from the second they got there. It was the exact town Zachariah had shown him. Not quite as beaten up, but well on it’s way. They found a large cabin that Dean remembered from Zachariah’s vision, and made camp there. Luckily Kevin had learned a great deal from Sam and was a genius in his own right, so they set up what electronics they had stuffed into the trunk of the car, amidst the weapons and books. Dean felt uneasy that he was surprised by Kevin’s exceptional skills. He was a straight A student after all. He was going to an Ivy League school once upon a time. But somewhere along the line Dean had forgotten that, and catalogued Kevin as a prophet and nothing else. As if he was a machine that could only translate for them.

The first few weeks were the hardest. Without Sam there to ground him, Dean spiraled. And with his angel powers now at their full potential he was starting to act less like himself and more like a methodic thinking angel. He was very factual about his basis of reality and the only person that could ever pull him out of his own head, was Cas. But seeing Dean so disconnected, so unhappy, so disgusted with himself and the world, had changed Cas. It had changed him so much that he was starting to forget why he was even here in the first place. He was having an existential crisis every other hour these days. It looked like the unlikely trio was going to implode on itself until they got a call from Garth. Charlie had contacted him and the two of them wanted to meet up with the Winchesters. There were sightings of zombie-like hoards of people all across the east coast and it was getting to the point of over running whole towns. Dean recognized the description as what he knew as the Croatoan Virus, and agreed they should come hole up with them. It was going to be a long a haul. This was the start of the end of the world after all. Might as well have as many soldiers on their side as possible.

That’s when their numbers started to grow. Garth was a center of hunter information. He really had become the new Bobby, and with that came the trust of hunters from here to the cascades. As the weeks went by and the virus spread, their little hideout grew into a base camp in just over a month. Charlie tracked the start of the virus to the Ebola vaccine made in labs in New York, and it spread from there to other hospitals. It would only have taken one of Lucifers minions, possessing one doctor on the inside, to get that into motion. It was almost sickening how easy it was when he thought about it.

Now they had an army at their disposal, and with Garth’s help, army supplies as well. Kevin felt he had purpose, now under Charlie’s wing. They bonded over nerdy shit, while Garth took over trying to teach Cas how to be more intune with his humanity. Everyone was better off without Dean constantly over their shoulder it seemed. Dean didn’t notice when Cas had started smoking, but after a while he started associating the smell of pot and incense with his… boyfriend?... friend?... angel? Nothing seemed to fit. Dean had given up on labels at this point. They seemed as constricting as his skin as of late.

The last month had been hard on their relationship. Whatever their relationship was really. They slept together when they could. But there were nights when Dean was out on a raid for supplies or a hunt to save some family in a town a few hundred miles from base, when Cas didn’t have anyone to sleep with. And after the first few dozen nights of being alone, marijuana and alcohol weren’t cutting it.

“I need some shut eye.”

“Wait…”

“Yeah, Cas?” Charlie yawned and stood up, stretching. She’d been teaching Cas how to play some basic Warhammer games with miscellaneous game pieces they’d acquired from various raids. He was actually fairly good at it. Probably had to do with his spatial reasoning from his time as an angel.

“I… Can you stay with me?”

“What?”

“I’m not so good on my own… at night.”

“You know I would man, but Riza’s expecting me, and she already went to bed like an hour ago.” She sounded genuinely sorry. Charlie had probably the least tragic of all their back story’s, but she still understood how bad nightmares could be in this life.

“Oh…”

“I’m sure Dean wouldn’t mind if you found a bunk mate for the night. He knows how bad it gets for you.”

“Are you telling me to cheat on him?”

Charlie shrugged. “Are you dating him?”

Cas opened his mouth to answer, but found he didn’t have one.

“The man’s a spiral of self-deprecation and body counts right now. You both could probably use your space. Just be open about it. Don’t lie about what happened, and if he gets upset, then define your rules. It’s his own fault for leading you on like this and then always leaving. Have you two even fucked yet?”

Cas shook his head.

“Okay. As one of your new human teachers, I’m giving you an assignment.” She helped him up and led him out the door of the main cabin to face the bonfire in the middle of camp. “Make friends. Get drunk. And fall asleep next to someone. You don’t have to have sex with anyone. But you deserve more than what Dean can give you right now. Think about yourself okay? Have fun.”

Cas nodded, and Charlie went off towards a tent on the other side of camp.

Three days passed. And though Cas, Charlie, Kevin, and Garth, knew of his angelic powers, none of the others did, and a ripple of Dean's assumed death went through the camp. By the time a week went by, Cas had gotten accustom to numbing his entire being with nearly overdosing on whatever he could get his hands on. Which meant his usually good judgement, was clouded at all times now. He’d gotten to second base with half a dozen girls in the compound and by the end of the third week he was hosting spiritual guidance sessions in the living room of the main cabin. The members of their compound that were having trouble grasping the end of the world and their place in it, seemed drawn to the fact of Castiel’s past religious expertise. So again, he found purpose.

When August hit, Dean drove up in one of the armored trucks they’d outfitted, with two of the six mean he took with him, and two more survivors he’d picked up along the way. When they got out of the truck he tossed a beer to each of them, and as soon as one of the men had taken his first sip, shot him. 

Cas watched from the porch of the main cabin, which had become his home these past two months. He and Dean shared one of the bedrooms in it, being of high enough importance not to have to use a tent. He itched to run to him, but something told him not to. Dean didn’t like to show weakness in front of ‘his men’. And part of that weakness was emotion. He didn’t outright say it, but Cas understood that Dean didn’t want anyone to know about their relationship. So only Charlie, Kevin, and Garth knew. And even Garth kept his mouth shut about it. Dean had such a short fuse these days it wasn’t worth risking his anger.

“Give him a proper burial out back.” Two of the guys nodded. “And the rest of you unload the supplies.” He stuck his gun in his leg holster and started towards the cabin. Charlie was at his side almost instantly.

“Did you really have to do it in front of everyone? You’re not gaining any confidence from the people like that.”

“This isn’t your make believe kingdom, Charlie. Everything doesn’t always go to plan. If I could have waited I would have. The normal Croat turning time is two hours but he started twitching right as we pulled up. That’s less than an hour from when it happened.”

“The virus is getting stronger.”

“And we’ve got to make a move. Now.”

“But we need-“

“I have it.”

“You found it?”

“What do you think I was doing for a month? Joy riding?”

When they reached the steps of the cabin, Dean looked up to see Cas leaning against the doorframe, looking so not like _his_ Cas. He sighed.

“I need to talk to you.” He said to Cas, then looked at Charlie, and she nodded in understanding and left them, to go help organize people and let them know their ‘fearless leader’ was back, so she didn’t have to play queen anymore.

As soon as she was gone, Dean wrapped his fingers around Cas’s and led him into the cabin, past the smell of marijuana and sex in the living room, up the stairs and to their bedroom.

When he closed the door, Cas opened his mouth to ask what had happened, what had taken so long, why had he been gone a month, was he okay, where had he gone? But Dean instead wrapped his arms around him, and pulled him in for a hug so tight, that it caught Cas off guard.

“Woah there, cowboy. You doing alright?” The words sounded strange on Cas’s lips and Dean pulled away to look at him confused.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with _me_? What’s wrong with _you_? A full hug? Something big must have happened for you to be showing that much emotion.”

Dean looked almost bitter. “Is that what you think of me?”

“It’s what everyone thinks of you. Including yourself, I might add.”

“You smell terrible.”

“Well, thanks.”

“How much did you smoke today?”

“Enough.”

Dean scoffed and sat on the bed, unlacing his boots. “You’re getting out of control man, you need to slow down.”

“Yeah well when you’re never here it’s kind of the only thing that makes the pain go away. So if you find an alternative to sleeping with strangers and smoking pot, let me know.”

Dean paused, his hands still on the laces. “Sleeping with strangers?”

“Well you weren’t here.”

“You fucked strangers?”

“No! Just fell asleep with them.”

“So you didn’t have sex with random people?”

“Well I mean, not penetrative sex.”

Dean groaned and looked up at him. “God Cas, that’s disgusting!”

“Well I had to learn it from somewhere, heaven knows you weren’t going to teach me anytime soon.”

“So that’s what this is about huh? You’re stupid human lessons?”

“Well it certainly couldn’t possibly be about your commitment issues because that would be clarifying something that I’m not supposed to talk about right?”

“So you just decided to fool around with half the camp?”

“Oh I’m sorry, did _Dean Winchester_ just judge me for having multiple sexual partners?”

“You’re better than that Cas. You’re supposed to be better than all of us.”

“You sound just like Meg.”

“Is this about her too? Do I have to compete with her now too?”

“Well you’re certainly not trying very hard.”

“What has gotten into you?”

“I thought you _died_ Dean. You were gone for _a month_. No call. No radio. No nothing. I have lost everything risking my life for you. I was literally put on this earth to protect you. To look after you. And now I’m broken and twisted and without you I barely have a purpose at all. I need you around and without you I crack and I shatter and it’s absolutely terrifying because I’ve never loved someone this hard before. So don't judge me, when the only thing keeping me alive vanishes for a whole,  _fucking, month_!”

“You-… You love me?”

“Yeah, ya idiot. Why did you think I wait around hoping for a passing glance? Just cause I kind of enjoy you a bit? No, I love you.” It startled him to say it out loud and he just realized it was really the first time he ever had. He looked at Dean, who’d gotten up, his shoes now off. “I love you.” He said again to taste the words in his mouth.

Dean hesitated as he looked at those blue eyes, and the weight of the last month, the last year really, washed away from him and he found that he didn't care about what he thought anymore. He was going to go with his gut for now because, fuck it. It was the end of the world right? No use trying to fight your own demons as well as the ones outside. He put a hand up to hold Cas’s face and kissed him. Hard.

He tasted different than before. Muskier. Dirtier. But that same beach smell still lingered in his skin and Dean found himself pulling off his shirt and pushing Cas onto the bed before he knew what he was doing.

Cas on instinct put a hand up to grab onto Dean’s Henley, but it was already gone, he opened his eyes, and pulled back from the kiss to glance at him and smirked.

“What?” Dean asked furrowing his eyebrows.

“You just… Must really have wanted our clothes gone.” Cas smiled.

Dean looked down. “Oh.” It seemed he didn’t have a complete hold of his angelic powers after all.

“Although to be fair.” Cas moved Dean’s face back to kiss him. “I would have done the same.”

Dean grinned against Castiel’s lips and for a shining moment, the world faded away and it was just the two of them. He wasn’t in his head about what this meant, or where this was going, or the repercussions, or his sexuality. It didn’t matter. Because he just wanted to be in this moment. He wanted to feel every inch of Castiel as his hands slid across his skin. He wanted to remember his taste forever, as his mouth moved from his lips down his neck. He wanted to listen to that faint whine that came after Cas hitched his breath, when Dean let his hand travel down past his naval.

“Wings.” Cas whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Your wings.” Cas articulated, and Dean noticed that he’d been so distracted that he must have let them slip back into their natural state of reality.

“I don’t care.” He muttered waving his free hand at the door to close and lock it, then went back to marking Castiel’s neck while his hand slide between his legs.

Cas tried to stifle a moan and on instinct, his hand went up to grab Dean’s shoulder, but grabbed the top of his wing instead. Dean bit down harder, startled and moaned against Cas’s neck.

“Dean!” The sound of his name on his lips, laced with that kind of pleading tone, was enough to send him reeling. That and the forgotten sensation of fingers through his feathers, had already made Dean's breathing ragged.

 Dean put a hand on the wall above the head board and looked down at the hickey littered ex-angel beneath him. “Ya got any lube?”

“You’re an angel.” Cas pointed out. “Manifest some.” And pulled him back down to lock their lips again.

***

Dean had never been more grateful for a bed before in his life, than he had been in that moment. All the motel’s, all the nights in the Impala, even the bunker didn’t seem nearly as great as this janky bed on a thin frame in some abandoned cabin. And it was completely due to the man beneath him. The man beneath him and his glorious wandering hands. As Castiel’s fingers slid through Dean’s wings, tightening into a fist, sliding through the feathers, Dean let out a shaky moan, and his nails scratched against the plaster of the wall above Castiel’s head.

“God you’re good at that.” He breathed.

“Well I’m no Dean Winchester when it comes to human coitus. I guess I should take solace in the fact that I can make you weak in the knees in at least one aspect.”

Castiel carded his fingers through a large part of his under-feathers, and Dean couldn’t breath for a moment. “Don’t call it that.”

“Coitus?” Dean grabbed Castiel’s hand then, to stop him playing with is feathers. Cas looked up at him. “But that’s what it is.”

“We’re not going to have _coitus_ , Cas. “ Dean’s green eyes showed a lust and hunger that Castiel had rarely seen from him so directly. “This isn’t some clinical human interaction. This is a good old fashion fucking.” He grinned, and slid his hand from Castiel’s collarbone, down the length of his torso. “If there’s one thing I will never forget about my humanity, it’s how awesome I am at making someone do this.” He wrapped his fingers around Castiel’s erection and slowly slid his grip from the base to the end.

Castiel’s breath hitched in his throat and his head arched back a bit into the pillow. He let out a small “Un-“ Because that was the closest sound to words that he could muster in that moment.

“There’s my angel.” Dean smiled.

“Not an angel.” He breathed.

“Yes. You are.” Dean corrected and kissed his lips again; sliding his grip to the base of Castiel’s hard on and slowly sliding it back up.

Castiel’s kissing faltered, unable to concentrate with Dean’s methodic hand movements. They were slow. Near torturous. In all the times Castiel had fooled around in this stupid camp he’d never had someone tease him so methodically like this. “Dean,” His hands went to Dean’s shoulder and started to slide towards the part where his shoulder blades and wings connected, but in one quick movement, Dean used his free hand to grab both of Castiel’s and pin them above his head.

“Yes?”

“You’re killing me here.” He arched his hips up towards Dean’s teasing hand, but the blonde let go and pushed his hips back into the mattress.

“You don’t like it?” He teased.

“I do!” He opened his eyes to look at Dean with that feral grin on his face.

“Then what’s the issue?”

“I just… “ His hips tried to arch up again, but Dean’s angelic strength was pinning him to the mattress easily. “Don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop what?” Dean asked, sliding his thumb against the base of Castiel’s cock as his hips tried again to push into the touch.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?”

“Enjoying what?” Dean played coy.

“Making me beg.”

“Well you’re not begging yet. Are you, angel?”

Ah. So that’s what it was. Castiel closed his eyes and curled his still pinned hands, into fists. “Please, Dean.”

“Please what?” He ran his thumb along the underside of Castiel’s now, nearly twitching cock.

“Screw me.” He said in a shaken breath.

“Oh I'll do more than that.” Dean let go of Castiel’s wrists and threaded his fingers through that dark hair. His other hand slid farther between Castiel’s legs and he curled one index finger inside him. Just up to one knuckle, then two, and curled the joints so that he was rubbing the pad of his finger against the moist walls inside his writhing angel. “I’m going to unravel you.”

Castiel tried to keep his breathing in check, but again, his hips tried to press up towards the feeling and Dean had to keep him pinned. “You’re really good at that.”

“Lot’s of practice.” He teased and started curling and un-curling his finger, making a sort of ‘come here’ gesture with his index finger within Castiel’s walls. The smaller man had to hold onto Dean’s shoulders to keep himself from writhing too much underneath him.

“Dean,” He groaned and dug his fingernails into his skin. “Come on. Just do it.” He was aching for this. For this moment to finally happen. And Dean was taking his sweet damn time.

“Someone’s a little bossy.” He said sliding another finger inside him, just to hear the sound that came from his lips.

“Dean, please.” He breathed. “Just do it. I want you to do it. You don’t have to- ah!... You don’t have to take so long-nnnn!”

Dean slid his hand out and reached for the side table where a bottle of lube had indeed manifested itself. He put some on his fingers, before closing the bottle and turning back to Castiel, who looked at him with anticipation.

“You really want this, don’t you?”

“Yes. I really do.”

“I didn’t realize you’d turned into such a sex fiend.” He pressed his fingers down between Castiel’s legs, sliding the gel against the twitching, opening.

“With the others it was a way to kill time.” He explained and closed his eyes. “Not like this. I’ve never wanted someone like this.”

Dean paused, minutely before finishing with his hand and wiping the excess across Castiel’s stomach. “Well that makes two of us.” He leaned down and kissed him. Softly at first, then deeply. Hungrily. Lovingly. He slid a finger into Castiel again, adding the second just as quickly before Cas put hand down to Dean’s wrist and parted their lips. “Stop teasing me and just do it.”

“Aren’t I supposed to stretch you out? Make you ready?”

“I’ve been ready for a while Dean Winchester. Now just put your dick inside me already.”

Dean had never heard Castiel be so forward before. Or so blatantly lewd. It took him by surprise, and then he chuckled against his lovers lips. “Alright, alright.” He pulled his hand away and used it to position his own erection, which had been severely ignored up until now. He put the other hand on Castiel’s waist, using his hipbone to keep his leverage, and slowly, but forcefully, pushed himself inside.

The sound that came out of Castiel’s mouth was something that Dean didn’t think he’d ever heard before. The kind of noise that sounded like melting chocolate, and blankets next to roaring fires. The kind of sound that was near perfect, until he heard the tale end of it mixed with a moaned, “Dean.” And then it was glorious. Dean made a mental note that he wanted to hear that sound more often. Maybe always. Once a day at least.

Dean kissed him, feeling the tightness around his own erection. The way that Castiel was trying to force himself to relax was evident. The muscles were relaxing and tightening around the foreign feeling, over and over, getting used to his size, until Castiel’s voice muttered against Dean’s lips, between kisses. “Why’d you stop?”

“Just letting you get used to it.”

“Stop being so thoughtful or I’ll make you come before me just to prove a point.” He reached up and grabbed onto a thin bone within the feathered wings, that made Dean cry out unexpectedly, into Castiel’s lips, while his hips bucked against his will.

“I didn’t know you liked it so rough.” Dean said through a grin and a moan in his voice, trying to regain his composure.

“I like you don’t I? You’re the roughest thing I can think of. Maybe I'm a masochist.”

Dean laughed gently. A complete Winchester, breathy sort of laugh. “If you say so.” And slid out enough to push himself back in. And even though Castiel’s hips bucked up greedily, his legs wrapping around Dean’s back as if to pull him closer with each thrust, Dean made a point of starting out slow and working his way up to a rhythm. This was something he knew how to do, even if he’d never had sex with a man before. It was the same general dynamic. And the way to get a girl unhinged was to go just slow enough that you could push her to that edge of a climaxing piece by piece. Little by little. Hold her there for a second too long, slow down, and then when she can’t stand it, and she’s trembling and begging and her nails are digging into your back, start a pace that’s hard and fast to send her reeling. Maybe bite her neck at just the right time to get her eyes to roll back and her voice to go up an octave.

That was what Dean Winchester was good at. And with Castiel it was just the same. Or so he thought. The difference being that while he was focusing his lips on Castiel's neck, and keeping pace with an appropriate rhythm, Castiel’s fingers kept petting and sliding and brushing and grabbing at his feathers, causing Dean to lose control every once in a while. A sharp buck from his hips here or there, digging his fingernails into Castiel's side once or twice. It wasn’t until he realized he was biting onto Castiel’s shoulder to stifle his own moans that he noticed he was going much faster and harder than he promised himself he would. This was Castiel’s first time after all. Shouldn’t he have been making an effort to be gentle?

But the repetitive nature of Castiel’s voice just egged him on to keep going. “Dean.” Repeated over and over mixed with the occasional “Oh.” And “You’re so good. You’re so good.” Sent Dean to a headspace of euphoria he didn’t even know was there. And for once, he didn’t feel like an angel. Sure Castiel’s hands in his feathers were going to make him cum more than he ever had before, but he felt so grounded in that moment. So real. So human.

“Dean!” Castiel cried out. A warning, of how close he was. 

“Yeah babe... You’re doing good... Just a little more...” Dean felt the familiar swirling of warmth and tightness in his groin growing. It was starting to send small shivers and sparks through his skin and as his climax grew closer, his grace began to glow.

Castiel closed his eyes to the brightness of it at first, but kept them closed as his own ecstasy was pulling at him. His breathing was uneven and his heart was racing and then all at once his breath caught in his throat, his skin tingled and the rush of electricity flooded through him.

Castiel tilted back his head, wrapped his legs closer, and called out his name. Dean thrusted once, twice, and a third time hard and deep into his lover. Dean got him to let out a beautiful throaty sound as his orgasm painted both their stomachs with sticky proof of his work. That almost sent Dean over on it’s own. But what really pushed him over was how Castiel’s grip tightened on the piece of his wing he was holding on to, so forcefully, that there were stars and noises and colors and so many kinds of molecules all happening at once. Dean came hard, his voice loud against Castiel’s skin.

It took longer to come down from that high than it usually did. He didn’t know how long they stayed like that. Dean’s hands on Castiel’s hips, his forehead in the pillow next to him, Castiel’s leg’s still wrapped around his waist. The longer they stayed like that the more aware Dean was of how heavily they were both breathing, and how not tired he was. 

“I have never been so exhausted.” Castiel said, letting his legs slide from around Dean, and rest against the mattress, shaking gently with the effort to move them.

Dean slid out of him and let himself fall onto the mattress beside him. “I should be.” He turned to look at him. “I could go for another round though.”

Cas chuckled with a smile. “If I had the angelic strength you do now, we could probably do this for days.”

Dean hummed to himself, daydreaming. “Sounds nice.”

“Give me some time to catch up.”

“That’s alright. I should take a shower while you rest.”

Castiel put a hand out to grab Dean’s shoulder, his hand fitting perfectly against the red handprint that had come back as if to taunt them. Or approve of them. “I said give me a minute, I didn’t say we were done.”

Dean gave him a toothy grin and let himself lay down next to him, his wings now safely tucked in their appropriate dimension. "Alright." Both of them laid on their backs, staring at the ceiling, trying to catch their breath.

“Was it… Did I do okay?” Castiel asked turning to face him.

“Okay?” Dean asked incredulously, looking at him. “Dude that was fricken awesome.”

Castiel grinned. “Good.”

Dean returned the smile.

They looked at each other for a moment, before both turning back to look at the ceiling. Neither of them seemed to really be the cuddling type. At least not in this moment. Not when there were no nightmares to keep at bay. Then without either of them really making the decision, their fingers intertwined lazily. And they listened to the sounds of their own breathing mixed with the commotion outside. The sounds of all the people oblivious to their violent acts of passion.

A human and angel intertwined. 

What a sinfully beautiful way to mark the end of the world.


	34. The catalyst.

Neither of them had fallen asleep after the events that had transpired. Dean had always liked falling asleep next to the woman (or in this case man) he’d just slept with; letting himself fall into a false sense of security with the warmth of another body right next to him. But now that he was an angel (albeit not a very good one) he had given up lying still with his eyes closed, pretending to sleep. So instead he sat with his back to the headboard, his wings still shifting behind him absently, after they had laid in silence for a long while. A few muttered praises were passed between them, but Dean was never one to linger on the romanticism of sex, and Cas didn’t know what was common in this situation anyway. So instead Castiel had asked what had Dean wound up so tightly, and all of the last month came pouring from his lips. The biggest issue that seemed to be gnawing at him was the fact that this was almost identical to the future he’d been shown, but not quite. Little pieces were different here and there. Important pieces.

“It sounds like Zachariah showed you a possible future. A likely future. But even angels can’t figure out the smaller details of time. That’s why there are prophecies.”

“And prophets.” Dean added, thinking aloud.

“And prophets.” Cas agreed. “Why didn’t you tell me about this interaction you had with Zachariah sooner. It seems like a fairly large ordeal.”

“I don’t know.” He said, almost brushing away the words. “It didn’t seem relevant. Or important.”

“It didn’t seem important?”

“It didn’t seem like something to worry anyone else about. It was some trick he played on me. I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“You not wanting to talk about things are how a lot of problems arise.”

“Thanks Oprah. You’re a real help.”

Castiel didn’t know who Oprah was, but he gathered that it was somehow not good in this situation, due to Dean’s sarcasm. “I’m merely pointing out that you bottle a lot up when you don’t have to. You do it to protect people. I understand that. But sometimes you do the wrong things for the right reasons.”

Dean rolled his eyes and groaned swinging his legs over the side of the bed to grab his boxer briefs, and slide them back on, before standing. “Half the people I’ve tried to protect are dead. So it doesn’t really matter now does it?”

Castiel’s eyes softened. “I’m still here. So are Charlie and Kevin and Garth. The whole compound looks up to you, depends on you, trusts you. You must realize that.”

Dean sighed and after seeing a bit of his wings out of the corner of his eye, focused them back into their invisible state. It seemed so easy now; he wondered how he’d had trouble doing it before. He wished he could do that to so many things now. Just focus them away. To a different plane of existence altogether. Just make his problems vanish.

“Dean?” Cas ventured after a few moments of silence.

“Hmm?” Dean had his attention out the window, fingering open the blinds to glance down at the people by the fire in the middle of the campsite. It was dark now, and a part of him wanted to be down there with them. But a part of him wanted to hole himself up and never speak to anyone again.

“Do you want me to stop doing sexual acts with the others in the compound?”

Dean rolled his eyes and let his head move from one side to the other, annoyed. God he was so literal. There was no subtly with this man.

“Do what you want man. The world’s gonna end soon anyway. Who am I to stop you?”

Castiel thought for a second. “So given different circumstances, you would wish to stop me?”

“From sleeping around?” Dean decided to give in. He didn’t have the energy to win this one. “Yeah. I guess. Sure.”

Castiel nodded and looked to the floor to find his own boxers and put them on as well. He found a shirt to slip on too, though he was pretty sure it was Dean’s, and sat on the edge of the bed watching him think.

A knock on the door startled them both out of their comfortable silence.

“Come in.” Dean said gruffly, having apparently gotten past the self-denial of his bisexual nature, he seemed to not be worried about hiding his consummation of that fact with Castiel now. Whoever had something to say, thought it important enough to come all the way up here after all. And everyone in the camp already thought they were either secretly hooking up or about to. He heard the mutters when people thought he wasn’t paying attention, or didn’t notice him behind a jeep, cleaning the blood off a barrel. Who knows, maybe this person would win some kind of bet for being the first to find out that it had actually happened. Dean didn’t much care anymore. Either the apocalypse or the angel part of him taking away his humanity, had made him indifferent to most things. And now it seemed, caring what people thought was one of them. Which seemed odd now that he thought on it, because Dean had spent so much of his life caring what people thought. What his friends thought, what the girls he fucked though, what Sam thought. What his dad thought. And now all of that seemed idiotic and superfluous in retrospect.

Charlie was the one who pushed open the door. Which was probably a good thing because she looked neither stunned nor surprised to see Castiel and Dean both there in their underwear. She didn’t even seem excited at the development, which Dean would have expected. Instead she looked directly at him, worry and fear in her eyes.

“What happened?” Dean’s face went from indifference to what Garth called his ‘leadership face’ the second he noticed her worry.

“Kevin’s gone.”

“What?” He snapped.

“He was in his tent less than an hour ago and now he’s just vanished.”

Dean’s eyes went wide and he glanced to Castiel. For what he didn’t know. Support? Answers? What he got was an idea. Just from looking at him. God was this, what love was? Just being able to figure something out because your partner looks at you a certain way? It was gross. Dean made a note to not notice it anymore if it was going to continue to happen cause it made him feel like he was in a Nicholas Sparks novel.

He put up a hand to silence Charlie, seeing her opening her mouth again, and let his eyes slip out of focus as he concentrated. Charlie looked to Castiel confused, but Cas only offered a vague, almost proud smile, as Dean used his angelic abilities to start searching for Kevin, from the compound out.

But then all at once, Dean put a hand out to steady himself against the wall he was next to, and Castiel was on his feet.

“What is it, Dean?”

“Lucifer has him.” He forced through gritted teeth, cringing at something he was experiencing second hand.

Castiel put a hand on the side of his face. “Dean.” He said clearly, trying to ground him. “Come back.”

“I’ve got to figure out-“

Dean wouldn't be able to handle torture through angelic convergence. Not now. He wasn't strong enough or stable enough. “Turn it off. Now.” He said sternly.

And so he did. Dean’s eyes slid back into focus and he looked up at Castiel. “A warehouse on the other side of town.”

Castiel nodded.

“Why would he pick something so close?”

“To draw you out.”

“Is someone going to explain all of this at some point?” Charlie motioned to the room in general, insinuating both what happened between them, and what just happened moments ago.

“No.”

Dean was caught off guard by how quickly Castiel had answered her. Almost as if he was protecting Dean’s privacy now. Like his inner protective angel-ness was resurging.

Charlie put her hands up in surrender. “Fine. What do I tell the others?”

“I need the best six we have. Do NOT let Garth volunteer. He needs to stay here. We leave as soon as everyone’s rested and fed.”

“Can I give noon as a go time?”

“Yes.” Thank god for Charlie. Dean seriously couldn’t have thought of a better second in command.

Well he could. But the enemy they were fighting was using him as a meat suit. So it seemed irrelevant to think like that.

“And Charlie?”

“Yeah, Dean?”

“You’re in charge if something happens.”

“To you, or in general?”

“Both.”

“Not Cas?” She asked warily.

Cas shook his head with a small smile and crossed his arms. “I’m no leader Charlie.”

“He is.” Dean corrected. “But he doesn’t like to be. You do. And you're just as good at it.”

Charlie let a small smile tease the edge of her lips and nodded before turning out of the room.

“Dean-“

And again, Dean put a hand to the wall behind him, to steady himself, and Castiel put a hand on his arm to hold him up on instinct.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“He’s… I can…” Dean put his other hand to his head. “He’s…Praying…” Dean let out a cringed groan. “To me. For it to stop. For me to help him.”

Castiel paused; he’d never been in this situation before. The only time anyone had prayed to him through pain was Dean. And that had taken years of being an angel to figure out how to deal with. Let alone ignore all together.

“Breathe, Dean.”

“I’ve never had anyone pray to me before I don’t- Gah!... What do I do?”

“He’s in pain, that’s why it’s so strong. You need to focus on the reality in front of you to push it to the back of your mind.”

“Just ignore him!?”

“For now. We’ll help him tomorrow.”

“Lucifer wants the tablet… Or the information from it… Something… Anything… And he won’t give it to him.” Dean was struggling for words between clenched teeth.

“Dean, I need you to open your eyes and look at me.”

“Cas, I don’t think-“

“Open your eyes. _Now._ ” He said with a loud stern voice that was so reminiscent of ‘old’ Cas that Dean couldn’t help but do as he was told. “Focus on me. And breathe.”

It took a few tries. But finally Dean was able to suppress the pained screams to a dull buzzing in the back of his mind. Enough that he was able to grab Cas into a hug and press his forehead against his shoulder.

Cas was caught off guard by the sudden change in personal space, but went with it.

“Aren’t prophets supposed to have their own specific angels or something?” He muttered into Castiel’s neck, and Cas realized something.

“I think you may be Kevin’s.”

Dean froze, and then let his shoulders drop with a tired groan. Of course. Of course he was. “Well I suppose if I was assigned someone this is better than some random homeless person.”

“Not all people are assigned an angel. Just the special ones.”

“Like prophets?”

Cas nodded. “And ones in prophecy. Like you. And your brother.”

“Well if you’re my angel, and I'm Kevin's, then who’s Sam’s?”

“How did you know I was your angel?”

Dean pulled back and gave him a look. “It wasn’t that hard to figure out. You kind of follow me everywhere.”

“… Michael told you didn’t he?”

“… Maybe… but then who’s Sam’s?”

“I think it was supposed to be Gabriel.”

“...But?”

“But it was never solidified. And now we don’t even know if he’s alive.”

Dean suddenly found himself again, gears turning as ideas started forming. “Oh he’s alive alright. And we need his help if we’re gonna find Kevin AND Sam. Let alone stop the apocalypse.”

“And just how do you propose we find him, Dean?”

And then just like that, a third voice was in the room. “Well picking up a phone once in a while wouldn’t hurt, baby brother.”


	35. Deja Vu.

“Gabriel _what_ are you doing here?” Castiel sounded less than pleased.

“And how did you find us?” Dean added.

Gabriel held up a few feathers. The crème color to match Dean’s. “Found these in someone’s night stand. Easy enough to use for tracking. Even when you’ve got that angel proofing on your ribs.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed at the feathers. “How did you-… Night stand?” He clarified and felt Castiel stop moving next to him. He turned to look at him.

Castiel was making every effort not to make eye contact with Dean now.

“Cas?”

He shrugged.

“ _Cas?_ ” He asked again.

“It’s not as if I was using them for anything unjust. They were from when all this started.”

“You kept my feathers?”

“You kept Sam’s necklace.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“Because it’s not a piece of his body.”

“It’s not like I took your whole wing.”

“Ladies!” Gabriel cut in. “The colt you have is a fake.” He said getting right down to the reason he was here.

“Wait what?” Cas turned back to Dean. “You found it?”

“That’s why I was gone for so long.”

“Okay, but it was a fake.” Gabriel said again. And they both turned to him. “Lucifer planted it. Here’s the real one.” He held his hand out and it appeared there.

Dean eyed it warily.

“Oh come on flying squirrel. It’s not like I’ve got a reason to lie to you right now.”

“Flying squirrel?” Dean took the gun. “Is that the best you can come up with?”

“I didn’t choose it. That was Crowley. Since then it's just sort of caught on through the supernatural network.”

“Crowley?” Cas almost bit the name.

“He’s alive?” This was too many things. Dean was starting to fall into disbelief.

“I’m not here to answer all your questions. I’m here to Deus Ex Machina this shit and leave.”

“Wait, Gabriel. How did you find this?”

“I’ve had it. Remember that room with all the heavenly artifacts? The weapons Balthazar gave Castiel?”

Dean glanced at Cas. “Vaguely.” He said with apprehension.

“Well when he lost his mojo, I nabbed the key while no one was looking. So now I’ve got it. Took me a while to actually find where the interstellar room was, being on different universal planes and all, but I finally got it. And the real colt was in there.”

“How?”

“Why?”

“Okay hardy boys. Again, not here to answer your questions. Pretty sure it changed hands enough that it just ended up there. That place is kind of a lost and found for weird shit.”

A jolt went through his mind and Dean cringed again putting a hand on the wall he was closest to, as he had to dial back Kevin’s screaming in his head.

“He’s trying to get information about the tablet.” Dean answered Castiel's question before he could ask it.

“But that was ages ago,” Castiel pointed out. “He wouldn’t remember anything from the demon tablet, now.”

“He’s asking- About the -Gah- The portal.”

Castiel put a hand on the back of Dean’s neck, rubbing it gently, trying to coax the voices out of his head. Gabriel looked vaguely uneasy at the display of intimacy. And slightly confused about what was going on. So he decided to bolt.

“Well I’m out. You got the colt, and I got my own mythology now.”

“Yeah, Loki right?” Dean sneered looking at him, as he got a hold of himself.

“What about Sam?” Castiel asked. “Once upon a time you were supposed to look after him.”

“What like you did with this asshole?” He motioned to Dean, who glowered.

“Yes.” Castiel said, sounding more like his old self than he had in a long time.

“Well you can’t say I’ve done a swell job up until now. And as long as Lucifer’s in his head and his meat suit, I can’t do anything until he’s free or dead. So when you kill him let me know.”

A part of Dean wanted to immediately say they weren’t going to kill Sam. But the new Dean knew better than that. They had to kill Lucifer. Whatever the cost. Dean knew the colt wasn’t going to work. But he had to play out the events as they happened. And he knew that if he put enough pieces into place, he could call out the big guns from their hiding places. Gabriel was proof enough of that, with him standing right in front of them. This was their only shot. And as long as everyone else thought the colt was going to work, they’d be fine.

“I just can’t watch this war anymore.” Gabriel added, sounding more tired than he had before. More human. “I’m not coming back again.” He looked to Castiel. “Goodbye little brother.” Cas didn’t say anything, but his jaw stayed set in place. Gabriel glanced at Dean and they exchanged a nod, before he was gone.

Dean looked at Castiel after the silence was too thick for him to deal with anymore. “Let’s see who Charlie’s rounded up.”

An hour later they were in the main meeting room. Dean, Cas, Charlie, Garth, and half a dozen of their top fighters. Garth was there just for moral support it seemed, as it was clear he would have to stay to take care of the camp while Dean and Charlie were out fighting for the sake of the world. The scene was playing out like a sick form of déjà vu that Dean couldn’t jump out of.

“So that’s it. That’s THE colt.” Riza asked.

Cas put his feet up on the table, leaning back in his chair as Dean looked at her but Charlie spoke the words that Dean remembered coming from his mouth when he’d seen this scene before. “If anything can kill Lucifer, this is it.”

“Great. Have we got anything that can FIND Lucifer?” She countered.

Yeah my feathery ass, he wanted to say.

“Are you okay?” Charlie asked her.

Garth chimed in. “I think she’s upset because you were in Jane’s cabin last night. Whereas you and Riza have a… connection?”

Dean set his jaw. This was so strange. The exact same conversation he’d heard from Zachariah’s time travel trick. Played out by different people.

Cas didn’t try to hide how amused he was at the exchange, and laughed gently under his breath, in that way that told Dean he had taken a hit in the short time they were apart before the meeting. Riza did not look amused. Neither did Charlie, who shot Garth a look that made him put his hands up in surrender.

“You want to shut up?” Dean said to get the groups attention again. “We don’t have to find Lucifer, we know where he is. The demon that we caught last week, he was one of the Big Guy’s entourage.” A lie. “He knew.”

“So a demon tells you where Satan’s gonna be and you just believe it?” Man he was really starting to hate Riza. No wonder Charlie cheated on her.

“No, trust me. He wasn’t lying.”

“And you know this how?”

“Our fearless leader, I’m afraid is all too well schooled in the art of getting to the truth.” And although Cas was just helping to perpetuate the lies they had to stack in order to keep his angelic abilities a secret. It stung.

“Torture?” One of the guys asked. “Oh so we’re torturing again.” Again. The same words, out of a different mouth, with a different context. Dean felt like he was going to throw up.

Dean glared at him.

“Oh well that’s… That’s good. Classy.” He said awkwardly.

Cas pretended to scratch his face, to hide his smirk. Dean turned his glare to him.

“What?”

Dean ignored it. “Lucifer is here." He pointed to the map. "Now, I know the block and I know the building.”

Castiel looked at the map with the red circle indicating their target. “Oh good, it’s right in the middle of a hot zone.” While Dean had figured out where everything was, he hadn’t told Castiel where they were going. So his flippant sarcasm was completely truthful in that moment.

“Crawling with croats yeah. You saying my plan is reckless?”

“Are you saying we uh… Walk in straight up the driveway, past all the demons and the croats and we shoot the devil?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. If you don’t like, uh, ‘reckless’, I could use insouciant maybe.”

The argument felt different this time than in the weird Zachariah time-travel world. There was more beneath it. More at stake. More secret meanings between their eye contact. And everyone in the room felt like they were intruding on something. Like lovers quarrelling who had left the curtains open on accident.

“Are you coming?”

Cas took a deep breath. “Of course. But this is a murder-suicide mission, do you really think it’s necessary to have this many people. I mean if something happens to Charlie-“

“She’s coming.”

“Okay. We’ll uh… We’ll get the grunts moving.”

“We’re gonna be on the road by midnight.”

“Alrighty.”

“I thought you said noon tomorrow.” Charlie looked at him as the others started to shuffle out.

“Changed my mind.”

She bit back something she was going to say and looked up at Garth. “Come on. Let’s get the cars ready.”

And they left. They all left. Even Castiel. Leaving Dean alone to try and ground himself from reliving that memory of the same conversation he had years ago. Trying to concentrate on his angelic abilities and finding Kevin and figuring out if his plan was actually going to work. He was banking a lot on the desperation of a lot of people. And if they didn’t act how he assumed they would, they were all done for. But they were already dead men walking anyway. So really what was the difference?

Dean put his head in his hands and let Kevin’s voice slip into his mind again. But this time he spoke back. He’d never done this before and he wasn’t sure if it even worked telepathically this way. But it was worth a shot. If he couldn’t save his brother, he was going to at least save Kevin. Kevin deserved to live more than all of them. He’d sacrificed the most. He was forced into everything he’d done. He didn’t choose this life. Not once. But he fought as good as the rest of them. Sometimes even better. While suffering the worst.

“I’m coming, Kev.”


	36. The End.

Once they were packed up and on the road everything seemed to go silent. Well, at least in Charlie's car. Dean had taken the armored truck so Charlie was driving the jeep. While Castiel usually rode with Dean, this time he chose to ride with Charlie. Mostly because the other guys in Dean’s car usually went off on that machismo crap on their way to a hunt and he really wasn’t in the mood to overhear that. Charlie didn’t tolerate that kind of bullshit in her car when they were on the road somewhere. And due to the small number of people that were assigned for this mission, it was just the ex-angel and the redhead in the overflow car. Which was nice. He and Charlie got along a lot better than Castiel had first thought they would. But she had a similar personality to Dean, which made it almost easy for Castiel to function around her.

“I still think you’d be a Hufflepuff.” She said after a long bout of silence on the road.

“What?” He turned to look at her, confused. They hadn’t spoken a word since they pulled out of camp, yet she was speaking like they were continuing a conversation he was unaware they had started.

“Hogwarts houses? I was sorting people with Kevin earlier and he kept putting you Gryffindor. He put all three of you in Gryffindor.” Her voice softened. “He thinks so highly of you guys. Like white knights disguised in flannel and five o’clock shadow.”

Castiel put a hand up to his jaw. His scruff _was_ kind of getting out of hand. But Dean didn’t seem to mind, so he didn’t worry about it. It seemed frivolous to worry about appearances when the world was gonna end. He looked back at Charlie but said nothing. She was talking about something that he had no concept of but for some reason was really emotional for her. He didn’t know if he was supposed to speak or not in this situation. So he chose to stay quite.

“I think Dean’s lost it.” She finally said, breaking the silence again. “He’s so volatile and emotionless. I don’t like it.”

“Being an angel does that. Zachariah was like that. Balthazar was like that. It’s hard to conceptualize the importance of life when you know you’ll live forever.” He turned and looked out the window, watching the trees whip past. He didn't like talking about this kind of thing. Charlie took the hint.

She glanced at him, then back to the road. “You love him?”

He paused but then nodded. “Yeah.”

“... Why?”

Another pause. “The only thing I think we have left, Dean and me, is each other. If Dean says it’s time to go out in a blaze of glory,” He motioned to the road in front of him, to their path, to what they were heading into right now. “Win or lose, so be it. I’m in.” He smiled to himself. “But then, that’s just how I roll.”

She smiled gently and shook her head. “You two are terrible together. But it works. I don’t know why.”

“A cast out guardian angel and a make shift archangel with a human soul.” He shook his head to himself and leaned back in the seat.

“Archangel?” Charlie asked furrowing her brows and looking at him.

Cas froze for a second, realizing what he’d said. “It’s not important.”

“Dean’s an archangel? How is that possible?”

“He just has the wings.” He waved the question away.

“Well don’t all angel’s have wings?”

“No… I mean yes but…” He groaned and rubbed his eyes. It didn’t really matter much now. “He has archangel specific wings. He has literal gold in his feathers. That’s what makes them shine like that. That’s why he’s so powerful.”

“How does that even happen?”

“Usually Father-…” His chest tightened. “The big guy upstairs picks them. If you’re chosen you get more power, and some sort of jewel or metal combined with your feathers to make them stronger.”

“He picked Dean?”

“Well I don’t see how since he doesn’t seem to exist.” Cas said, sounding much too much like Dean for Charlie’s liking. “But theoretically, yes.”

“Have you guys ever thought of looking for him? I mean if angel’s exist there has to be a God right?”

“I tried.” For years. For so long. Castiel’s voice made it sound final, so Charlie dropped it. And Castiel was glad that they pulled up in front of their destination shortly after.

When they had gathered behind the truck, in front of the building, Dean laid out their plan. Everyone would go inside, create a distraction, while he snuck around the back.

“By yourself?” Riza raised an eyebrow. “Despite the fact that we’ll all be slaughtered in there, you still think you can go in by yourself through the back unscathed.”

“He’ll be fine.” Castiel said before Dean could defend himself. “He knows what he’s doing.” He knows that Lucifer's in a white suit dressed up as his brother, waiting just around the rose garden behind this two story colonial house. He’s been here. And Castiel had to trust him that this was going to be alright. He looked up at him, and Dean nodded his gratitude.

“Alright team, let’s move out.” He grabbed something from his thigh holster and handed it to Castiel as the others started moving to position. With both their hands on it, he pulled the brunette closer to him. “This is the demon blade I’ve had since the beginning, there’s gonna be a lot of demons and croats in there, and the holy water bullets aren’t gonna be enough.”

Cas nodded.

“You still got your angel blade?” Cas pulled his coat aside a bit, to flash the silver in his belt. “Good. You fight better with that.”

"I've had more practice with it." Castiel smiled and looked over to the group that had started moving up the front steps, but Dean pulled his attention back again.

“And Cas?”

“Hmm?”

Dean looked at his eyes. Those blue eyes and wondered if this was actually it. It felt so normal. So everyday. Was this the day when they all went down fighting but ultimately lost everything? Better make it count then. He leaned forward and kissed him. In front of anyone that was looking. Not that anyone was. Everyone else was already following Charlie and Riza into the house, but the fact was that Dean Winchester was kissing a man he barely acknowledged he had feelings for, in public where anyone could see. And Castiel knew that took a lot of courage from him.

When he pulled away Dean put a hand on the side of Castiel’s face and smiled gently, the dirt still lining his temples, mud under his fingernails. Perfect. “We’re gonna do this.”

It was a lie. To pump them up. To give them hope. But Castiel needed it just as much as Dean did. So he agreed. “Yeah.”

Then they parted; Castiel jogging after the group to catch up to the sounds of fighting inside, and Dean creeping around the back of the house, trying not to hear the cries of his friends from inside. This had to work. Or he’d just killed everyone for nothing.

Opening a sickeningly perfect white picket fenced gate, he walked into a rose garden that had no business being there, and saw the same scene that had played out before him with Zachariah’s little trick.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean opened his mouth to retort something, the colt heavy in his hand, but Lucifer pushed on, ignoring his attempt to converse.

“As much as I’d love to monologue at you, I’m right in the middle of something, and if you’d give me just another moment…” And right then, Lucifer sliced his hand with a dagger, Sam’s hand, and squeezed it into a fist, dripping blood onto a particular rosebush, that seemed to be covered with other powders and liquids, with ruins written around it’s roots.

And just like that, the air vacuumed from around them with an almost deafening pop, and a void opened in it’s place.

“No…” Dean looked at it feeling his heart race, as swirls of black smoke came hurtling out.

“Yes.” Lucifer said with a cheeky grin. “Kevin was more helpful than I’d ever imagined. Not by choice obviously. Had to burn off the anti-possession mark he had and just have someone get inside his little head on my own. Would have been easier if he’d just told us. Probably would have less scars and more sanity left too but,” He shrugged, “Que sera, I suppose.”

Dean raised the colt and pointed it at him. Lucifer laughed.

“We both know that won’t work. Why are you even pointing it at me like that?”

“To distract you.”

“Distract me? Distract me from wh-“ And suddenly there was a silver blade going through his chest. Lucifer’s light flickered inside him and he looked down at the blade before he heard a voice behind him.

“Goodnight little brother. You knew it would be me didn’t you?” Michael’s voice was calm and cool. Out of place, given the destruction around them and the swirling black smoke that just kept coming from the portal Lucifer had opened.

“You’re in the wrong vessel! Angel blades aren't even supposed to work on me!” Lucifer cried out.

“You think this is _just_ an angel blade? Please. I've spent years coating and spelling this to be able to kill you. Seems prophecies don’t need to be followed exactly. Seems they can be changed just slightly sometimes.” Michael glanced at Dean.

It had worked. It seemed to easy. But it had worked. Dean knew if he could just provide Michael the chance the bastard would come out of hiding and finish this. He wouldn’t be able to resist fulfilling the stupid prophecy even if he wasn’t wearing Dean to do it. But the portal to hell just kept spilling demons into their world and Dean tried to focus hard on what he was supposed to do to close it quickly.

Lucifer’s blood- Sam’s blood- dripped on to the ground as he fell to his knees. He looked up at Dean and-… Was that a flash of Sam in his eyes?

Dean’s face dropped and he took the few steps closer to him as he heard a familiar voice call his name.

“Dean…”

“Sammy?” He put a hand on his cheek.

“The blood of the-“ He coughed. “The blood of the one where they belong… Michael’s blood. Use Michael’s blood.” Dean shook his head confused. What was he talking about? Sam raised his hand to show the gash on his hand. That’s what had opened the portal. His blood. The blood of Lucifer’s vessel. The boy with the demon blood opened the portal to hell.

His face lit up with the realization. He needed angel blood to open the portal to heaven. He glanced at the portal. Maybe he could change it. Turn it into a portal for heaven. Close this one and open the other one all at once. “Michael!” He turned to him. “Your blood will seal it. Use your blood!”

Michael looked at him, confused, not hearing what Dean had said over the roaring of wind past them as more and more demons flooded from the portal as the seconds ticked by. And then in one quick movement, Lucifer gained a hold on his vessel for one last time and swept his leg out and under Michael, pushing him off balance, pulling the blade out of his own back with a cry of pain and pushed it into Michael’s heart before pushing him through the portal.

“NO!” Dean made a move to grab Michael, but he was gone. Along with Adam. The little brother he’d never protected. Never even got a chance to protect. He turned to Lucifer, to take his anger out on him, but it seemed that last act of vengeance had drained what little energy he had left and now he was staring at his brother’s corpse, in a blood stained white suit, laying amongst the roses, of a garden that had no business being in the middle of the apocalypse.

Dean fell to his knees in front of him. “No…” The wind was howling around him, gunshots were coming from inside the house, demons were flooding their world. And all he could do was shake his head, trying not to notice the tears streaking the dirt on his face as he pulled his little brother into his arms. “No… No-No-Nonono.” He pressed his forehead to Sam’s hair.

He came here knowing that killing Lucifer meant killing his brother. He knew that. So why was he so upset that it had actually happened? Did he really think he was going to find some loophole to figure it all out? To have everyone go home with a happy ending and ride off into the sunset?

He could feel his breathing start to quickened as he panicked. What could he do? He couldn’t sell his soul he didn’t really have one anymore. He was an angel. FUCK, he was an angel! He put two fingers to Sam’s forehead and concentrated, tried to remember what Michael had taught him, and glowed brighter than he ever had before.

Nothing happened.

He tried again. Even brighter light flooded the garden this time.

“WHY WON’T THIS WORK!?”

“Because he’s already dead. And you need permission to bring back someone from the dead.”

“Permission from WHO!?” Dean snapped his head to turn and see Gabriel, looking solem and worse for wear.

“Who do you think?”

God. Of course. Fuck God. What did he ever do for the Winchesters? This was all a load of crap. "Gabriel what are you even  _doing_ here? Where were you five seconds ago!? Why didn't you help us!?"

“Dean you have to open the portal.”

“I tried-“

“No, Dean YOU, have to open the portal.”

Dean’s posture showed the slow ascent to realization. This is what the prophecy was about. This moment. With shaking hands he leaned over, Sam’s head still in his lap, and picked up Lucifer’s blade that had dropped to the ground, and sliced his own hand open. He watched the blood drip from his skin and then reached across himself to let the crimson liquid fall into the rushing void.

The ground seemed to shake a bit. And then with another vacuum of air and a loud pop, the black smoke ended, and the portal glowed a soft white.

He did it. Dean couldn’t believe he’d actually done it. He stared at the white glow disbelieving for a moment before he heard someone calling from inside the house.

“DEAN!”

He wanted to ignore it. He turned back to Sam.

“DEAN, IT’S CAS!” His heart clenched and he looked up to find Gabriel gone. He let out a frustrated sound and lowered his brother’s head to the ground slowly before running into the house.

The fighting had ceased and it looked like they had won. But at a price Dean wasn’t sure he wanted to face. Every demon and croat was dead around them in the old furnished living room. But in the middle of the chaos the only living souls left were,

Kevin, sitting on the floor, leaning against a wall, looking more pale than he’d ever seen him,

Charlie, with an obviously broken arm, on her knees in front of,

Cas, who was laying on the floor not moving.

“Not you too.” Dean kneeled next to him and immediately put two fingers to his forehead.

“No…” Cas croaked and raised an unsteady hand to take Dean’s wrist. “It won’t work.”

Dean looked at him confused. “I can do this, Cas!”

“Not-…” He groaned and grabbed his side. “Not when you’re this emotional. You’ll just kill me faster.”

Dean’s jaw set. How could Cas have such low faith in him? He was a pretty damn good at these stupid angel powers now. But a part of him knew he was right. Dean could feel his grace burning inside him, trying to boil out of his skin, pulling towards Cas. Pulling towards the person it actually belonged to.

Dean’s mind started to race and he looked up at Charlie. “Make sure Kevin’s alright.” He nodded to him.

“I’m fine.” Kevin said, the sarcasm clearly dripping off his voice. “Just been metaphorically raped by Lucifer. Had my brain scrubbed through with a melon baller of evil. Don’t worry though Charlie exorcised it, which wasn’t traumatizing at all. I definitely won’t be needing a shrink anytime soon.”

“Stop whining. You’re alive aren’t you?” Charlie countered, sitting next to him, to check him over.

“If you can call it that.” He muttered.

"Kevin..."

"Sorry. Rough couple of days." He said closing his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall.

Dean turned back to Cas. “You said the grace around my soul is like a ribbon right? Tied around some swirling energy something or other in my chest?”

Cas nodded. “You’re gonna be a great angel, Dean.” He winced again, holding the stab wound on his side with another wince. “You just need to practice more. The visualization will help.”

“I never wanted to be an angel. But you…” He moved so he sat next to Castiel’s head, and moved it to rest in his lap. “You do.”

“It’s a little late for that kind of thinking don’t you think-…” Castiel opened his eyes to look up at Dean. He didn’t like the look on his face. “Dean what are you planning?”

“I love you.”

“No. Whatever it is you’re planning to do, don’t. It won’t work and then we’ll both be dead. Don’t do it.”

“I know I don’t say it. Cause I suck at that kind of stuff-“

“Dean please-“

“But I need you to know that I love you-“

“Please don’t-“

“Would you just shut up for a minute!”

Cas shut his mouth and looked up at him, pained.

“You remember that dock? In that dream? When I was fishing?”

“Don’t do this please… This isn’t what I want…”

“I’ll be waiting there for you alright?”

“Dean…”

“I love you.”

Cas opened his mouth to protest again, but instead let out a cry of pain and grabbed his side. “I love you too…” He forced out in a low tired voice, as his heart started slowing.

Dean took a deep breath and pressed his hand to his own chest. Just molecules. He told himself. Nothing but molecules and matter and the universe. He focused his angelic energy and the room picked up a wind that wasn’t there before. It whipped Charlie’s hair around and Kevin shielded his eyes against the dirt being kicked up. Dean’s wings came into existence and his whole being glowed as his hand pushed through the matter of his flesh and bone to where his soul was tucked beneath his ribs.

“What the fuck is-“ Charlie put a hand over Kevin’s mouth to silence him as she watched in awe and fear.

Dean’s cries of pain grew louder as he wrapped his fingers around the glowing piece inside of him. The blueish white light flooded out of every inch of him, lighting the room, deafening the wind around them. It was blinding and flailing around like pieces of ribbon, just like Castiel had said. After a moment, all the pieces of ribbon started to magnetize towards Cas. Like that’s where they had always belonged. And as Dean pulled his soul out of his body, slowly, his screaming getting louder, all the light rushed into Castiel.

With his body now near without a soul and no grace to hold it together, Dean used his remaining strength to press the glowing piece in his fist, to his lovers chest. With one final cry of desperation, he pushed against his ribs and the grace fell into place.

Castiel’s eyes and mouth glowed as his head tilted back violently.

All the light in the room flashed brighter as if to punctuate it’s conclusion, and then was sucked into Castiel’s being, with a gasp.

He sat up quickly, breathing harshly, clutching his chest where a sudden weight had been added and pulled his hand away to find a pristine crystal that glowed gently.

“You idiot!” He turned to look at Dean and slightly shaking, ran his hands over his face. “You fucking moron.” Was that the first time he’d sworn with such emotion? “You’re such an idiot!” How was Castiel suppose to process this? The one person he cared more about than anyone on this whole stupid planet, had killed himself, in order to save him. "What have you done?"

He looked at the crystal in his hand, his eyes watered. 

“What is that?” Charlie asked cautiously.

It took him a while to finally answer. “The soul of a righteous man.” He slowly tore his eyes from the crystal to see Dean’s now lifeless body, laying on the ground next to him. His wings had vanished. He'd finally gotten rid of them. Just like he'd always wanted.

He had done it.

Dean Winchester had sacrificed himself and saved the world. He’d opened the portal to heaven. Abaddon and Lucifer and Michael were gone. Now all that was left was for someone to lead the angel’s to heaven, and all the prophecies would be completed.

Cas wrapped his fingers around the crystal again and felt hot tears staining his cheeks. It seemed that even, given the grace of an archangel, he still maintained what humanity he’d acquired. He never used to cry before he’d been human.

He looked at Dean and put his free hand on his cheek to move his head so Castiel could look at his face. A thought occurred to him, and though the tears came faster than ever, he laughed gently to himself.

Kevin and Charlie exchanged a look. “Cas?” Kevin asked.

He looked to the pair. “Sorry. That was… inappropriate…” He looked back at Dean. “I’ve just never seen him so peaceful. Seems unfair.”

“Unfair?”

“The Winchesters spent their lives preventing the world from ending. And when they finally succeeded they don’t even get to see it.” He brushed some hair from Dean’s face. “Their only peace is in death. Seems unfair.” He ran his fingers across the string that held the necklace around Dean's neck that Sam had once given him. “Or is that irony? I’m not sure.” He pulled sharply to snap the string from his neck and take it, sliding it into the pocket of his jeans.

Kevin swallowed and stared at Dean, unable to look away. Everyone was dead. His entire family. Everyone always died. Everyone but Kevin it seemed.

And Charlie.

And Cas.

Cas looked at the crystal again and Charlie stood up slowly, trying very hard not to look at Dean’s corpse between them. “What are you gonna do with it?”

“It’s going to lead the angel’s to heaven.” He just had to step through the portal in the backyard that he could now sense with his regained angelic grace, with this crystal in hand, and all the angel’s that still had their radio’s would be able to sense the power shift. They’d flock to the portal as if he'd used Gabriel's horn and everyone would be home. He could sort out everything upstairs then.

“And after?” She asked.

Cas looked at Charlie, then to Kevin. “An awful lot of demons got out before the portal was fixed. Someone’s gonna need to round them up.”

Kevin tore his gaze from Dean’s body to look at Cas. “Us? You want Charlie and me to track down _all_ the demons that came through that portal?”

“We’re not even hunters.” Charlie pointed out.

“Yes, you are.” Cas said simply.

Charlie and Kevin exchanged a look again, in a way that made Cas grin in spite of the situation. Dean and Sam used to always do that. Exchange glances they didn’t think Cas noticed.

“Even if we were hunters, there’s only two of us.” She argued.

“Three.” Cas corrected.

“Two hunters and an angel, are going to save the world from a couple hundred demons?” Kevin’s sass was back. That was a good sign. 

Charlie was slowly caving as well. “Do you really believe three of us will be enough?”

Cas had a knowing smile. The kind that seemed to insinuate an inside joke that he was remembering.

He clutched the amulet in his pocket, and Dean's soul in his other hand. 

“It always has been.”


	37. Epilogue: Where we ended up.

After the angels had been led back to heaven and the bunker had been re-warded, things started going back to normal. Whatever that was.

Garth and Charlie and Kevin had all moved in to the bunker permanently, with Cas flying in and out on occasion to help them with cases. Garth was a wealth of knowledge on monsters while Kevin and Charlie were both too smart for their own good as it was. The bunker was perfect for them. A month after the incident, after giving them a proper hunter’s funeral, the trio had cleared out the Winchester’s rooms in the bunker and found the legendary ‘John Winchester’ journal.

“Well it’s not very up to date is it?” Kevin asked paging through it. “Half of these just say how to stun something, when we already know how to kill it from experience.”

“We could update it.” Charlie said taking it from his hands to glance at the old pages.

“I’d feel bad writing in it though.” Garth chimed in. “It looks like a family heirloom of some kind.”

“So we make our own.” She answered. “A new book. We buy one with blank pages and start our own.”

“I can type it up too so we have a digital copy.” Kevin offered.

“It’ll be like a Pokedex of the supernatural. We could help a lot of people this way. Make it accessible to the hunters that Garth’s in contact with. They could share it with others. A sort of Hunter’s Bible.”

“Or manual. Why does it have to be a bible?” Kevin added.

“We could also add some common sense that the Winchesters never thought of.” Garth said with a small smile. He never was one to dwell on sadness. Even though they were gone Garth never pined for their loss. He acknowledged how much he missed them, but pointed out that they wouldn’t have wanted the three of them to be upset every time they mentioned them.

“What do you mean?” Charlie asked.

Kevin chimed in, “Exorcising rituals on ringtones, salt hula hoops, devils trap bullets.”

“I think the bullet was their grandfathers idea.” Garth added.

“Regardless. There’s a lot we could do here.” Charlie had her nose in the journal again.

“Do you think Cas would help?” Kevin asked.

“As much as I can.” As usual Castiel had shown up out of thin air with the best possible timing. “I can give you what angel knowledge I know that wouldn’t be blasphemous to share, or dangerous falling into the wrong hands. And what I've learned working with the Winchester's.”

“How can something be blasphemous if there isn’t even a god to punish you for it?” Kevin raised an eyebrow.

“He’s out there. I just need to find him.” He held up the amulet he had taken off Dean.

“You’re actually looking for God?”

“Dean was an archangel. The only one who can bestow that power is God. I just need to find him. And with Crowley back in charge of hell, and you three as the hub of the North American hunters network, I have more time to worry about things in heaven. I've always wanted to travel this world anyway, and Chuck’s disappearance was extremely suspicious. I think it might be connected. Prophets don’t just vanish like that.“

"I can't believe Crowley's not dead." Kevin huffed, annoyed. And frankly pissed. "We were so sure Lucifer had done that work for us."

Charlie rolled her eyes, unconvinced. “We’re not the hub-“ The phone rang.

“I’ll get it.” And Garth bounded off to the phone room, with a line of phones so reminiscent of Bobby’s house, that it was almost cliché.

Charlie turned back to Castiel, who looked smug. As if the phone call alone had proven his point. “Alright, so say we are, that doesn’t mean that we’re the best hunters out there.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“We’re not very good at fighting.”

“Are you kidding?” Kevin let out a small snort of a laugh. “With your sword skills from so much LARPing and the martial arts I did as a kid, we kick ass. You need to have more faith in yourself.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you so proud of yourself before.” She grinned.

Kevin blushed gently and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing.” Cas nodded to them. “Let Garth be the point person for the hunters that need one. Work on your manual-“

“Bible.” Charlie corrected with a grin.

“Right… Your Hunter’s Bible. And keep looking for people to save.”

“I can steal enough credit card accounts form the 'one percent' to keep us rolling for a while. And this bunker is stocked with anything else we could need. Doing a little Robin Hood-ing isn't so bad I guess.” Charlie turned to Kevin, and raised an eyebrow to silently ask what he thought..

He crossed his arms, but sighed, giving in. “... Yeah alright I’m in.”

“Call if you need something.” Castiel nodded.

“You mean pray?”

“That works too.” And he was gone.

“Hey guys!” Garth called from the other room, as he jogged back to them. “We got a call to go help a group of hunters in Conway Springs.”

“That’s not too far from here.” Kevin turned to Charlie. “We could do that today.”

Garth continued. “Got the call from this girl who says she just joined up with a group of teenagers there. Says some of them worked with the Winchester's before on a vampire thing? They could probably use a place to stay afterwards too. Sounds like they're motel jumping.”

“We could bring them here!” Charlie said excited. “We’ll be like the X-men with little hunters! Training the next generation.” She made some stylistic karate moves to emphasis her point.

“X stands for Xavier.” Kevin pointed out, laughing at her as she continued to fight the air with her army of invisible teen hunters behind her. “ We’d need a different name.”

“I’m sure Garth could think of something.”

He already seemed lost in thought, brain-storming cool team names for their teenage prodigies. “I’m sure I could.”

“What was the name of the girl who called?” Kevin asked.

“Claire Novak.”

 ***

Walking down the long dock of an imaginary lake with a perpetual sunset, there was an angel in a trench coat. He walked down the dock until he stopped next to a man sitting in a wooden chair, wearing a thick green jacket, with a fishing pole in hand.

"Hello, Dean."

“Took ya long enough.”

“I had some things to attend to.”

“So what do you think?" The man referred to what was around them. "Sam comes and goes. A lot of the time I just like to sit here by myself and think.”

“I never thought something would be better than an infinite Tuesday, flying a kite.”

“And?”

The angel smiled. “I don’t care what your heaven’s like, as long as it’s yours.” He rested a hand on the man’s shoulder.

The man reached up and put his hand on the angel’s, and turned to look up at him. “I’m glad you found me.”

“Well,” He looked down at him, with a warm, teasing smile. “You _do_ need me.”

And though they were in the middle of nowhere, on a lake, at sunset. Somewhere in the mist of what was this heaven, a soft hum of an old song the man's mother used to sing to him as a child played through the air.

A slow almost music box like version; the words of which had never held more truth, than in that moment.

_Carry on my wayward son._

_They'll be peace when you are done_


End file.
